What I've Done
by aubrey1
Summary: Regret can be a dominating force in life. Erika Delian knows exactly what that means. After 13 years of selfimposed exile, regret is all she has left. But with the return of the one man she ever loved, she may discover that she has another chance.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm in the process of fixing the formatting, so hopefully I'll get that changed pretty soon. Please, please, PLEASE review! This is my first fanfic and I'm totally open to suggestions. If you hate it, tell me! If you think it's OK, tell me!**

What is it about Tuesdays?

This thought crossed Erika's mind as she made her way down the winding path towards her cottage. For some reason she had always thought of Tuesday as the harbinger of evil. This Tuesday was no different. The day had begun as all days did; waking at noon from a drugged and dreamless slumber, then slowly making her way to the small and dirty kitchen to pour a cup of cold coffee from the day before. That morning, however, she discovered that not only was the coffee missing, but her never-ending supply of cheap vodka to complete her beverage seemed to have been depleted as well. By the time she got to work at 4:00, her head was pounding so hard she was amazed that her coworkers didn't seem to hear it. She was able to sneak shots from the bar throughout the afternoon, but not enough to silence the thudding at her temple. Tips were poor during dinner, even for a Tuesday, and by 9:00 Erika's patience had all but disappeared. Luckily, the night crowd did not disappoint. In a college town, weeknights at a bar differed very little from weekends, and Erika could always count on the slobbering drunks of all ages. She knew the reason for their generosity had little to do with their good will and more to do with her low-cut tops and her heavy makeup. Their obvious stares might offend some women, but Erika usually didn't mind. That night, however, had been different. She didn't know if they were being more disgusting than usual or if her patience level was lower, but she had forced the large bouncer named Eddie to throw out two regulars, and had refused to serve another. The owner of the bar, apparently feeling Erika had acted rashly, was not happy and had felt the need to explain to her in great detail why the customers were always right. She had left the bar at 4 AM in a mood that mirrored the stormy sky above her.

The mud that had been left in the wake of the furious storm of last night clung to her boots, though she either hadn't noticed or didn't care. It looked as if it might rain again and as Erika trudged on, a raindrop fell on her nose. She didn't quicken her pace. Erika had never understood why most people viewed storms as depressing or even frightening. For her the rain was cleansing, even baptismal. She had spent many a night standing at the side of the lake, or at the top of the Astronomy towers letting the rain wash over her, feeling every drop and allowing it to soak through her hair, her clothes, her skin…

At the thought of Hogwarts, a rush of memories came back to her, but she quickly pushed them down. One refused to be stifled, however, as she thought with disgust about what she had become. A witch of her caliber should not be hiding in a dingy Muggle village where no one knows her name. Only twelve years ago she had been famous throughout the wizarding world. A hero to save them. That's what they'd all said. "And now look at me," she thought fiercely. "Waiting tables and cleaning up after men that can't even remember their own names." She spat on the ground before collecting her mail and opening the door to her dirty one-bedroom house. She deliberately kept her eyes on the back wall to avoid seeing the bleakness of her dwelling. No pictures adorned the walls; no decorative candles or lamps. The only furniture in the living room was a ratty armchair that was forever leaning to one side and a hopelessly stained coffee table.

Throwing the few letters onto the table, she grabbed the bottle of vodka she had purchased on the way home and took a mighty gulp. She sighed with relief and sunk into the chair as the insistent pounding in her head eased. Closing her eyes, she relished the numbness that began to steal over her. She could a few raindrops begin to fall on the roof, which soon turned into a downpour and she continued to drink. After a few moments of silence, she opened her eyes and cast them to the letters in front of her. She picked them up and went through them without interest. Bill…bill…bill…

She tossed the letters aside and stood up. Wobbling a little bit she realized with satisfaction that the vodka was taking hold. She headed towards the kitchen, intent on making a sandwich before she passed out, but stopped when she caught sight of a pile of old newspapers in the corner. She hesitated, but walked unsteadily to them.

She didn't know why she still took The Daily Prophet. Erika had severed all ties to that world long ago, but for some reason she hadn't cancelled her subscription. Most days she didn't read it at all, but threw it straight into the corner or the trash. Other days she read it voraciously from cover to cover. The spaces between these days had become longer and longer and she realized with a start that she had not read the paper at all in over a year. She reluctantly unfolded the top paper and began to read. Hours passed, yet she continued to read about the world that she had cut herself off from. There was nothing of interest in most of them, and she skipped over many of the stories, but she could not make herself put the papers aside.

She was nearing the bottom of the stack but she was not yet satisfied. She opened the last paper and gazed at the date; some two years previous. Looking down at the front page, she felt her breath come rushing out as if she had been punched in the stomach. A bold headline, "Black Still at Large", stared back up at her. The picture below showed a man calmly staring out from behind a curtain of tangled black hair with eyes that had haunted Erika for twelve long years. She jumped out of the chair and dropped the newspaper as if it was on fire. Without a second's hesitation she ran out into the rain.


	2. Chapter 2

**This week I decided to totally change where this story is going. I'm a lot happier with it now, but it may take a little longer between updates, so I'll just apologize for that in advance. And I know these first chapters are kind of short, but as the story goes on that should change.**

Sirius Black had never claimed to be a patient man. In his younger days he had even taken pride in his almost legendary temper, but at this moment he thought he should be congratulated on how well he was enduring the company of Molly Weasley. He had been forced to spend the morning with her, and had, (so far,) refrained from cursing her into oblivion, though it hadn't been easy.

The cleaning of Number Twelve had been going surprisingly well over the last few days. All that was needed now was to replace the many Dark objects they had removed with more suitable, less dangerous items. Finished with the actual cleaning of the house, he and Molly were now scanning magazines, deciding what kind of furniture, lanterns, and other uninteresting objects should go in the house.

Sirius would have been more than happy to let Molly do this chore on her own. He couldn't have cared less what kind of ottoman or picture frame she picked out. He had lost count of how many times he had said, "That's fine," and "That one's nice, too". He knew that there was no piece of furniture that could change the way he felt about the house. Molly, however, had insisted that he help pick out everything. She seemed to be conveniently ignoring the fact that every object in the magazines was far out of their price range.

Sirius sighed wearily for the umpteenth time, and mentally resigned himself to a day of misery. "No different from any other," he thought dully, but Molly must have heard his sigh and seemed to take pity on him.

"I'd say that's enough for now," she said cheerfully. She had not forgotten their previous arguments, but she had genuinely appreciated his efforts in cleaning the house, and so had decided to put her feelings aside for the time-being. "Why don't we gather up all the stuff we want to get rid of and then call it a day?"

He looked at her, mildly shocked but pleasantly so, and nodded appreciatively. They began gathering the offending items and throwing them rudely into the waiting bags.

"What would you like to do with all of this?" she asked conversationally, tossing a devil-shaped candlestick into a bag that Sirius was holding open for her. "I expect some of it is quite valuable. Maybe we could sell some of it to Borgin and Burkes?"

"No," Sirius said without pause. "We'll destroy it-all of it." His tone left no question about the matter. Molly, a little taken aback by his forcefulness, said nothing until they were finished.

"I'll get lunch started," she said, straightening and rubbing her lower back. "Would you let everyone know it'll be ready in a few minutes?"

"Of course," he replied with a small bow, and started up the stairs.

He knocked on Harry and Ron's door and entered after hearing a muttered reply. The children had been given the day off after a particularly vicious battle with the wallpaper in one of the bedrooms the previous day. It appeared that the walls had been infused with some sort of poisonous powder that was activated if a Muggle-born set foot inside. The room had been Regulus's, who no doubt would have thought the trick amusing. Luckily Sirius kept a stock of bezoars ready for just such an occasion, so when Hermione fell on the floor and began convulsing, it was only a matter of seconds before he was able to revive her.

"Lunch is almost ready," he said, and the three children jumped up to follow him, obviously eager at the prospect of food.

Sirius alerted the rest of the inhabitants, but did not follow them back to the kitchen. Instead, he continued upstairs to his own room. Entering, he fell onto his bed ungracefully with the intent of taking a well-deserved nap. He had no desire to eat with the rest of them. An afternoon of sleep seemed much more appealing. But just as slumber was about to take him, he saw a box of items that had not been there previously. Curious, he got up and peered inside. On top lay a picture of Sirius with one arm around James's shoulders and shaking his hand with the other. With a pang, he remembered that the picture had been taken right after James had told him that Lily was pregnant.

Glancing at the other items in the box, he realized that they were all remnants of his past. He wondered how they had escaped the Ministry's abstersion of his former apartment. After his arrest, all of his things had been destroyed or sold, but these had been saved, most likely by Remus.

Sirius bent down and picked up some of the items. He wasn't sure he wanted these painful reminders of the past. Most days it was all he could do not to go mad with regret, and this box would surely not help that. Yet he knew he couldn't throw any of it away. Maybe Harry would want it…

At the bottom of the box, a book caught his eye. He knew exactly what it was before he picked it up and he knew that opening it would open up wounds that he'd been ignoring since his escape. He opened it nonetheless.

It was a scrapbook that, despite its worn edges and obvious age, was quite beautiful. The pictures that graced each page were all black-and-white, and each one contained the smiling faces of a handsome young man and an equally beautiful woman.

Sirius closed the book forcefully and shut his eyes. He couldn't handle the grief that the book brought back. After a few long moments he opened his eyes and looked down at the book. Erika had decorated it with such care, telling him they'd give it to their children someday. She'd been so excited when she started it, and so proud to show it to him when she finished it. Now it was a reminder of a life that Sirius could never get back.

Late that night, Sirius lay on his moth-eaten bed, fully clothed and fully awake. He had given the box of memorabilia to Harry, who had been more than a little excited to go through it. Sirius hadn't mentioned anything to Remus. He was a little irritated that his friend had thought that he would want any of it.

The one item he had not given to his godson was the scrapbook. Now he was staring at it from across the room, undecided about whether he wanted to open it again. Finally he couldn't take the suspense any longer. "Goddammit," he muttered as he got up and crossed the room to where the book lay on a desk. Slowly he sat down and carefully opened the front cover. He passed a hand over his face as the figures in the pictures waved up at him. He flipped through a few pages before coming to a stop. The photo in front of him showed the young woman smiling, obviously ecstatic about something. Then, looking a little shy, she held her hand up to the camera, revealing a small but beautiful diamond ring.

Sirius shut the book with another oath and threw the book down. Having it here would only make his existence that much worse. Immediately making a decision, he rose and carried the book downstairs. Taking care not to make any noise that would wake the others, he entered the dining room where he could just make out the lumpy silhouettes of the bags. He looked down at the book and, feeling guiltier than he had when he was upstairs, he hesitated and held it up to look at it in the dim light. He shook his head slightly and looked down before finally throwing it into the sack.

A few hours later found the inhabitants of Number Twelve enjoying a large breakfast. Everyone was going to Diagon Alley to purchase things for the upcoming school year and Sirius was actually somewhat looking forward to having the house to himself for a change. He hated being cooped up in the wretched house alone, but once they left he was planning on going on a spectacular drinking binge that could, perhaps, distract him from his current situation.

"I thought I could get a nice loveseat for the living room," Molly was telling Remus, who was listening politely. "It'll have to be used, of course, but I think I saw something in the paper about a nice new-and-used furniture store in Diagon Alley."

Sirius picked at his food moodily, anxious for them to be on their way. He looked up as he realized Molly had stopped talking and saw that she was staring at him expectantly.

"Sorry?" he said, realizing she must have asked him a question.

Sirius smirked inwardly when she looked slightly annoyed that he hadn't been listening, but she recovered quickly. "I asked what your plans were for the day?"

He scowled at the question. What kind of plans _could_ he have now that the cleaning was finished?

"I don't know," he muttered. "Buckbeak's claws are getting a little long so I thought I'd clip them." He rolled his eyes at how mundane his life had become. "I might get rid of those bags in the dining room, too."

Molly nodded her approval and went back to her breakfast. Once everyone had finished their meal and were groaning appreciatively, they rose from the table and left to get ready to leave.

"You go get ready, Molly," Sirius said and put a hand on her arm to stop her from cleaning the table. "I'll take care of this."

She seemed slightly shocked by the gesture, but smiled in gratitude and departed. Sirius put the dishes in the sink and cast a cleaning spell. He stared out the window as the dishes were wiped and dried under his nose. Two swallows were chasing each other through the trees. He watched the path they made as they wound playfully in between the branches.

"Sirius?" said a voice behind him. He turned around a saw Harry holding the scrapbook he had thrown away the night before. "What is this?" Harry sounded a little nervous, as if he was not sure if it was any of his business.

"Where did you get that?" Sirius said quickly, he voice coming out more rough than he had meant.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, sounding truly apologetic. "I just found it in one of those bags, and, well, I just wondered…I was curious…I didn't know if it was supposed to be in with the trash or not."

Sirius considered the situation for a moment, but he immediately realized that he owed his godson an explanation.

"Yes, it's supposed to be there," Sirius said and sat down. "I threw it away last night."

"Oh…why?" Harry sounded as if he wanted to let the subject drop but his curiosity wouldn't let him. Sirius smiled a little to himself as he thought that was definitely a trait Harry had definitely inherited from his father.

"Too many memories, I guess." He wished his voice didn't sound so damn wistful. "That woman was your godmother…and my fiancé."

Harry looked up in surprise, but didn't respond.

"She went to school with us," he continued, resigned now to telling the story. "She was in our year-great friends with all of us, especially your mum."

"What was her name?"

Sirius looked down and took a breath before answering softly, "Erika. Erika Delian. She and I were close friends even before we went to Hogwarts. She was the only pureblood kid that my parents would let me play with that I didn't despise."

"What happened to her?" Harry sounded tentative, as if he might not want to know the answer.

"Gone," Sirius replied quickly, his voice suddenly hard. "After your parent's death and my arrest, she disappeared. Nobody knows what happened to her. Remus said he saw her the night before she vanished and she was hysterical-couldn't even recognize him. The next day, she was gone."

Harry's voice sounded hopeful when he spoke again. "Nobody's heard anything about her? Maybe she's still alive somewhere."

"No. Everyone's looked for her. The Ministry had an official search party out for over two years. Dumbledore himself spent ages looking for her, and despite everything, there's no way she could have kept herself hidden from Dumbledore."

"What do you mean, 'despite everything'?"

"Erika was an extremely powerful witch. More so than the Ministry had seen in a _very_ long time. She worked for them for a while before leaving to join the Order." Sirius's head was pounding. Despite the brief relief that had come from talking about the things he'd been trying to forget since his release, he now simply wanted to go back to bed, and thought a stiff drink sounded very friendly indeed. For the first time, he wanted Harry to leave as soon as possible.

Relief came as Molly, who chose that moment to enter the kitchen, purse in hand.

"Time to be on our way," she said cheerfully. "All ready?"  
Harry glanced at Sirius looking disappointed.

"We can speak more later," Sirius said, though he sincerely hoped not to.

Harry nodded and followed Molly out the door. The rest of the group followed soon after and Sirius, finally alone, poured a glass of firewhiskey. Not bothering with ice, he downed the entire contents in one mighty gulp. He continued pouring shot after shot occasionally muttering curses and tossing his glass in the fire, only to immediately repair it and pour another. He continued this way for several hours until, at long last, he could no longer remember why he began drinking in the first place.

By the time the group returned from Diagon Alley, Sirius had passed out on his bed, clutching the scrapbook to his chest protectively.


	3. Chapter 3

**I re-read through this chapter and decided to change a few things, but not a whole lot so if you've already read it there's not any need to read it again. I also thought I should add more of an explanation at the end.**

**WARNING-Anyone who is offended by violence or abuse should NOT read this chapter. I know I might get some complaints about this, but here's your warning. Yes, it's really horrible, but it happens to real people and I think this was the kind of family that Sirius would have grown up in.**

Erika didn't know how long she ran without a destination, but by the time she stopped, so had the rain. Without looking around her, she sat down on a curb and put her head in her hands, trying to catch her breath. Question after question entered her mind as she finally gave herself free rein to think. Sirius had been out for almost two years and he hadn't found her. Did that mean he _couldn't _find her? Or did he, like everyone else, assume she was dead? Maybe he simply hadn't looked for her at all. She wouldn't have blamed him. If it was her, she wasn't sure she would be able to forgive him. Then again, he didn't even know the full extent of her crimes. She shivered and refused to spend any time thinking about that. Instead, she thought of the picture of him.

The person that had stared quietly back at her looked nothing like the handsome, confident, charismatic man he had been in his prime. His face was shrunken, as if the dementors had sucked the flesh out from under his skin, as well as the happiness. Yet at the same time, she was surprised at how little he had changed. It was his eyes, she decided. Except for their despondent expression, his eyes were exactly as she remembered, and she shivered again at the thought of what it would be like to look into them in person.

She picked her head up and looked around. She was in the middle of a very shabby looking neighborhood that she didn't recognize, and judging from the bars covering endless broken windows, it wasn't a good neighborhood to get lost in. That didn't matter anymore. The time had come for her to re-enter the world she rightfully belonged to. After a moment's pause to finalize the decision that she had made the moment she first saw the headline, she disapparated, forever leaving the life that had been hers for 13 years.

While she was in school, Erika had loved the village of Hogsmeade. Even after leaving Hogwarts she had made it a point to visit as often as possible, enjoying all of the little shops and the small-town people that ran them. It all reminded her of a scene out of an old movie that was just too ideal to actually exist.

That romantic nature had not always been in her personality. Until she was seventeen, she couldn't have cared less for small snow-covered roofs in winter, or fresh flowers sitting on porches in the summer. In fact, she had prided herself on her cynical nature. She wasted no time on silly fools that allowed themselves to be so easily swayed by their emotions, and although she loved them dearly, she had often thought that James and Lily were too easily taken in, worrying that their idealistic notions would one day get them into trouble. However, it had only taken one passionate kiss from a certain grey-eyed Marauder to make her realize that she was no different from the saps she had held in such contempt. Her eyes had been opened to the beauty of everything around her, and the town became a place of joy instead of disdain.

The town had always seemed unchanging, even during the war, but she had to admit to herself that she had not expected Hogsmeade to have remained the same during her thirteen year absence. As she stood on the cobbled street looking round at the same shops she had frequented as a child, she felt slightly out-of-body. It had never occurred to her that she might one day re-enter this world, yet here she was. Everything had continued without her as if she had never existed at all.

She put her hood up, not wanting to be approached by anyone who might recognize her, and stepped through the streets, trying to assume an air of confident isolation. Her face was covered, but she was able to take in all of the sights around her and was shocked to see faces she remembered. Putting her head down determinedly, she hurried forward towards her destination. She didn't stop or look around again until she reached the imposing gates of Hogwarts. With a deep breath, she looked up at the castle in front of her and was struck, as she had always been, by the elegance of the place. The majestic towers, the arcing bridges and extravagant windows; it was the embodiment of the magical world.

Suddenly, it was all too overwhelming. For the first time in over a decade, Erika felt tears streaming down her eyes. She gripped the bars with both hands and let herself sink to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Now that she was here, she couldn't fathom why she had stayed away so long. It was as if this place had been calling to her all along and she hadn't noticed. Being back seemed to ease some of the pain she had felt all these long years.

Finally pulling herself to her feet, she tried to take courage from her surroundings and began to inspect the barriers that were guarding the school. She found that there were even more than when the war had been waging, and she wondered at the reason. Surely they wouldn't go to such lengths just because of Sirius's escape. Luckily for Erika, however, she had helped develop some of the very spells they were using for protection, and it only took a few moments before she was inside the gates.

Walking up the steps, she felt a deep sense of dread, and once she set a foot inside the doors, her nerve almost failed altogether. Like the town, the great hall was exactly as she remembered. Although she knew where she was going, her steps slowed as she looked about her at the place she had called home for seven wonderful years. It was empty and silent now, but she could imagine what it would be like in a few weeks time when the students returned. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she remembered the first time she had entered this hall.

_The first years were huddled together, as if by staying close they thought they might be able to draw some courage from one another. They had all been more than a little alarmed by the strict-looking witch that had greeted them at the doors and led them to this room._

"_Wait here," she had told them, eyeing a messy-haired boy with disapproval. Under her gaze he tried to flatten his hair a little. "I will return to escort you to the Sorting Ceremony shortly."_

_Without another word she departed with a swish of long black robes and the first years were left to wonder at what was in store for them. Erika, afraid of somehow being separated, stayed as close to James and Sirius as she possibly could. She had never before been a timid child. Her father had told her on many occasions, "Never let them see you sweat," and she had taken that advice to heart. She remembered his voice now, and tried to appear confident, but the situation she was facing was completely foreign to her, and inside she was deeply unnerved._

_The two boys, however, seemed to relax when the witch departed, and James quickly ran his hands through his hair to make he hadn't made it too tidy._

"_Not exactly a comedian, that one," he said to no one in particular. Some of the children laughed nervously._

"_I'm sure we'll be able to bring her round, though, eh?" Sirius responded. "She probably just needs to loosen that bun a little. I'd be pissed too if my hair was pulled that tight."_

_There were many giggles at his remark until a small red-haired girl spoke up. "I don't think you should be joking around," she hissed. "We have some sort of test to pass and I don't know about you, but I'm trying to concentrate."_

_James and Sirius looked at each other in surprise. Erika surveyed the girl, deciding instantly that she liked her. She was definitely wound a bit tight at the present moment, but anyone who would stand up to James and Sirius was surely worth knowing._

"_I guess you'll be getting along with old McGiggles then," Sirius said with a grin. The smile slid off his face, though, when he realized Professor McGonagle had returned. She looked at him sternly, though, (seemingly without her consent,) a corner of her mouth turned up._

"_Follow me," she said regaining her stiff composure, and the first years shuffled their way through the doors._

Erika made her way up to the professor's table. She had always wondered how it would feel to be able to look out at all of the students at Hogwarts and know that you were helping to shape their lives. She gazed at the four long tables in front of her for a few moments before continuing on to a wide staircase, lined with portraits full of refined and wise-looking wizards and witches. She knew the path well, and her feet led her onward with no help from her head. Mostly to keep her mind off of what was ahead, she examined her surroundings. From the painted ceiling above her head to the stony steps beneath her feet, it was all the same as she remembered. She couldn't decide if that made being there more or less painful.

She came to a stop in front of the stone gargoyle before realizing that she didn't know the password.

"Chocolate meringue," she ventured, knowing Dumbledore's propensity for sweets. "Acid pops…chocolate frogs…licorice whips…"

The gargoyle stared stonily back at her. She wondered how long it would be until Dumbledore emerged from, or returned to his office. Hours…days? Could she camp out here until he found her? And when he did, what then? Feeling a little hysterical, Erika thought about what it would be like to see the old man again. Maybe when he laid eyes on her he'd immediately hex her to death. That didn't sound like such a bad idea actually. Much worse would be the more likely reaction of disappointment and confusion. She was on the brink of leaving when the stairs began to move.

Panicking, she cast a quick invisibility charm before Dumbledore exited the staircase and sucked in her breath as he passed within inches of her. Shocked, Erika noticed how worn he looked; how worried. Her stomach dropped at the thought of what might have been going on in the wizarding world that would take the sparkle out of her old headmaster's eye. She resolved to stay and meet him, along with his questions/rage/disappointment.

"I won't keep doing this," she muttered out loud. Taking care to keep the invisibility charm up, she sat down on the hard floor to wait, deciding to stay as long as necessary.

"There is nothing better in this world than a good chicken casserole," Albus Dumbledore thought as he settled behind his desk to enjoy his dinner.

The past few days had been more than a little trying and he was looking forward to relaxing for a while. Harry had been cleared of all charges a few weeks earlier, but Dumbledore was still worried about the boy. Lately there seemed to be something different about him; changes that the old man dreaded would only become worse, and that he felt powerless against.

A slow knock on the door shook him from his dark thoughts. Bewildered, he looked down at his watch, wondering who would be calling on him at this hour.

"Come in," he said, curiosity evident in his tone.

It was another few seconds before the handle turned and Dumbledore realized that whoever was on the other side must be somewhat hesitant to see him. It roused his curiosity even more, but when the door opened he forgot any previous worries about Harry, the school, or the war. Indeed, he nearly forgot who he was as a face appeared that he had never expected to see again. His outward expression changed very little as he stared back at her, but his shock became evident when the plate of chicken casserole toppled onto his lap and he didn't seem to notice.

"Hello, Professor," Erika said.

The silence stretched on, and Dumbledore could still not come up with a single coherent thought. It was impossible. It just couldn't be happening. Erika was dead; he knew that for a fact. Did that mean he was dead also? Maybe somebody had poisoned his casserole and Erika had come to tell him that he was in the Afterlife. The normally unflappable headmaster was, for once, completely rattled.

"How can this be?" he finally said quietly.

"Can I come in?" Erika motioned toward the chair.

Dumbledore didn't respond, merely staring at her for another moment. He rose from his chair and walked quickly over to the young woman and put his arms around her in a tight hug, smearing noodles on her robes.

"It's been a long time, old friend," he muttered in a thick voice. "Come in, of course, come in."

He released her and settled back in his chair while Erika sat down in front of him.

"I don't think I need to tell you that it is quite a surprise to see you," he said looking at her intently. She looked healthy. Time seemed to have had very little effect on the great beauty of her youth. This only made things more confusing to the old man. "We've all believed you dead for a long while."

She nodded and looked down, seemingly unsure of how to proceed. "I know. I've been gone a long time…"

Dumbledore nodded along with her. "How was it that we weren't able to find you? I can tell you firsthand, that every locator spell in existence was put to the test, some more legal than others. How did you manage to keep yourself hidden?"

Erika looked up in surprise. Apparently she thought that Dumbledore would assume that she had been kidnapped, or incapacitated in some way, unable to return. But the look of shame and regret in her eyes told him what she had not yet spoken. After a long silence, Erika looked back down.

"I haven't used any magic. None. For thirteen years. I knew you wouldn't be able to track me if I lived as a Muggle, so that's what I did. I've been living in a little Muggle town in Scotland, working as a bartender."

A look of comprehension passed over the old man's face. "Of course," he muttered, more to himself. "I should have known."

"I remembered that lesson you gave all of us during one of the Order meetings," she continued. "I knew you wouldn't be able to find me."

He leaned forward and searched her eyes intently, but not unkindly, finally asking the question he knew she had been dreading. "Why?"

Erika shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unable to meet his gaze any longer. "I couldn't stand it anymore. There was too much. I went a little crazy for a while I think. Nobody would listen to me. I knew he was innocent but nobody paid any attention to me, even you," she glanced up apologetically.

"But I started to doubt myself. I started to listen to you and Remus and the papers. I lost Harry and then…" she stopped speaking abruptly and closed her eyes, pain evident all over her face. "It was just too much," she finished softly.

"I should have listened to you. I never meant to dismiss you," he said, still trying to get her to look at him.

"I'm not blaming you," she said quickly, staring determinedly at the floor as a single tear dropped from her nose. "It was my fault that I ran, and my fault that I kept running all these years. I don't expect forgiveness. I just couldn't stay away any longer."

"Why did you stay away so long?" he asked gently, not wanting her to think he was accusing her.

"At first it was just easier," she said shaking her head and frowning at her feet. "I could pretend none of it ever happened. Like it was all just a bad dream. It was like I became a totally different person. Then it just got to where I'd been gone for too long. Once I started to want to come back, it was just too late."

Dumbledore nodded and looked down at his hands. She was so young, yet she'd experienced so much pain in her life. He would have done anything at that moment to help her forget.

"I just found out about Sirius. I saw it in a paper. Dumbledore, you know it wasn't him now, don't you?" She was finally looking him in the eye, silently pleading with him.

"Yes, I do know that now," he sighed.

"It was Peter, wasn't it? That's why Sirius killed him." Her voice changed suddenly. She no longer sounded timid or ashamed. She sounded enraged, yet controlled, as if she had already figured it out on her own and wanted nothing more than to have killed Peter herself.

"It was Peter, yes," Dumbledore said sadly. "But Sirius did not kill him. It was Peter that blew up the street, Peter that faked his own death. He's still alive, Erika. He's with Voldemort now."

Erika sat back in her seat abruptly. "Peter couldn't possibly have done that," she said with an air that Dumbledore had named the impossible. "You know he couldn't. He wasn't nearly powerful enough."

"He could and he did," Dumbledore replied. "He's alive, Erika."

"Alive?" she said softly. Dumbledore nodded. Suddenly she looked back up at him, her eyes intense. "You know where Sirius is." It wasn't a question.

"I do. He, along with Harry and the Weasleys, are at Grimmauld Place. Surely you remember Sirius's old home? It's being used as headquarters for the Order."

"The Order? Why is the Order back together?" she asked in alarm.

"I've already told you. Voldemort is back. He's gaining followers as we speak. Another war is coming, Erika," he said looking at her expectantly.

Erika looked back down at her hands and didn't speak for many long moments. "OK," she finally said, once more meeting his gaze with a look of determination.

Returning to Hogwarts had been one thing, but this was something altogether different. Even before she'd gone into hiding, even before Sirius had been arrested, even before James' and Lily's deaths, Erika would _never_ have guessed she'd return to Number Twelve. Sirius had always hated this house. It was the site of so many horrible memories, she couldn't blame him. It broke her heart to think of him cooped up in the old house, unable to escape. "I wonder if he'd choose this place over Azkaban," she thought.

The building was rundown and dirty, nothing like the precisely decorated and cleaned house she remembered. The shutters, (where the shutters remained,) were all broken and many were hanging at odd angles. Faded paint was peeling off of every inch of the walls, and the roof seemed to be sinking in on itself.

Erika shook herself out of her stupor. The conversation with her old headmaster had shaken her, but she felt somewhat more hopeful now. He hadn't yelled at her or berated her. He hadn't even seemed disappointed. He had understood her reasons, and did not seem to think she was selfish or horrible for running. That did little to ease her conscience; she knew that if Dumbledore knew the whole truth he would not be nearly as forgiving. But at least it was a start: one down, about a dozen to go.

She took a few slow steps toward the house. Everything in the past few days had been leading up to this moment. She had asked Dumbledore not to mention anything about her return, knowing that she owed it to them all to explain herself in person. However, it had been another three days before she'd had the courage to venture out of the seedy hotel room she'd rented. She spent endless hours trying to write a script for herself for when the time came. She had stalled and postponed the inevitable for as long as possible, but now she was running out of time. Harry would be returning to Hogwarts in only a few days but she wanted him to be there when she arrived so that she could apologize and try to explain.

After a deep breath, she stepped up onto the porch, pushed open the door, and passed through the heavy oak door. Her breath caught in her throat as the familiar smell of Number Twelve wafted into her nose. She couldn't help but feel nostalgic as she remembered meeting Sirius for the first time in the very spot she was now standing. She'd been five years old, and had immediately swiped the silly hat he'd been wearing off his head and run down the hall with it with Sirius close on her heels. They were inseparable from that moment on.

She took a few more steps and was met by a fresh wave of memories, these not as pleasant.

"_Who did this?" Walburga Black's voice was soft and controlled, but she looked fit to kill as she stared down at her two young sons. She was holding a broken piece of an ornately painted vase. _

_Neither of them responded, but stared at the floor as they shuffled their feet._

_The tall woman bent down and stared straight into Sirius's face, and then shifted to Regulus, holding the piece of glass in front of her._

"_Who did this?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper._

_Erika watched from a little ways away, paralyzed with fear. She had always been terrified of Sirius's mother, and she thought at this moment, that Walburga would be capable of anything. At the time, they had thought it funny to toss the large rubber ball through the rooms, seeing how far away they could get before they dropped it. The laughter had stopped however, when Regulus accidentally threw the ball into an expensive vase, shattering it into tiny pieces. It didn't matter that the glass could be mended in only a few seconds. They all knew they were in trouble._

_Walburga straightened. "Alright, I guess the only way to teach you is to punish the both of you."_

"_No!" Sirius said, stepping forward. Erika silently pleaded with him not to do it, not to take the punishment for Regulus. Walburga had always been harder on her eldest son, and Erika shuddered to think what kind of punishment she would deem necessary for this offense."_

"_I did it. It's my fault; I was tossing the ball around and it knocked the vase over on accident. Reg didn't have anything to do with it. I'm really sorry!"_

_Walburga bent down again, her face barely inches from Sirius's. "Yes, you will be," she said quietly. "Erika, Regulus, go upstairs now. Do _not_ come down here, no matter what you hear. Do you understand?"_

_They had both nodded, but Erika didn't want to leave. She was afraid if no one was there, Walburga might just kill him. She didn't have a choice though, and trudged sadly up the stairs. Instead of following Regulus into his room, however, she crouched on the floor, peaking between the banisters and hoping that Walburga couldn't see her in the shadows. Regulus, noticing that Erika was no longer behind him, hissed at her, "What are you doing?! You'll get us in trouble!"_

_She turned her head all the way around to stare at him. "I can't just leave him. What if your mom tries to kill him or something? We'll have to go stop her."_

_Regulus looked as if there was nothing that would make him go down the stairs, but he crouched beside Erika to watch._

_Sirius was sitting alone, looking extremely nervous. Walburga had ordered him to stay where he was, and departed quickly, stomping her feet slightly as she went. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Erika's face watching him through the banister. He gave her a reassuring smile and tried to motion her to leave, but Walburga had returned. In her hand she carried her wand. Sirius stared at it, horrified, not daring to guess at what was to come._

"_You brought this on yourself," she said hatefully. "Now take off your shirt."_

_Sirius's hands shook as he lifted his shirt over his head and looked up at his mother. Her face showed no compassion, no love; only a crazed anger that nearly froze him. Erika had stopped breathing the moment Walburga had entered. She felt nauseous, and she thought she might faint. Regulus huddled up against her side and Erika put an arm around him._

_Without any hesitation, Walburga swung her wand back behind her head and brought it swishing through the air, cutting a long, deep groove across Sirius's back that immediately began to spurt blood. Sirius screamed in pain over and over again, but his mother showed him no mercy. Minutes passed, yet Walburga was showing no sign of satisfaction. Erika was hugging a sobbing Regulus to her chest, and tears were streaming down her face, but she was no longer scared. All she felt now was rage. She wanted to tear the woman's arms off, curse her into nothingness, something...anything._

_Erika stood up abruptly and started down the stairs, but stopped when she realized the woman had stopped. Walburga looked down at her blood-soaked robes and her convulsing son lying on the floor._

"_Don't ever do that again," she said and walked purposefully out of the room. Erika immediately ran to Sirius's side to help him up. She bit her lip hard to keep from crying when he yelped in pain at her touch. She spent the rest of the day carefully cleaning his wounds and holding his hand._

Erika face was contorted in rage and anguish when she roused herself from her daydream. She had been so happy when the evil woman had died of a painful disease years later. Much to her surprise, though, Sirius hadn't celebrated with her.

"She _was _my mother," he'd told Erika simply, though he'd sounded a bit confused even as he said it.

Erika mentally shook herself and walked further into the house, listening intently for any noise that might indicate where the inhabitants were. All the rooms were dark, but when Erika walked into the living room, she saw a sliver of light under the door that led to the dining room. Realizing they must be having dinner, she walked across the room and pressed her ear against the door.

"…and James had to help her put the door back on after we'd just spent four hours taking it off!" The room erupted in laughter after the comment. Erika rolled her head so that her forehead was pressed against the door and closed her eyes. That was Sirius's voice, she would recognize it anywhere. She was seconds away from seeing him, looking into his eyes, smelling him, speaking to him…and she couldn't move. The speech that she'd rehearsed so many times in the dingy motel room was gone, forgotten. She couldn't think of one thing to say to him.

The laughter died and she could hear chairs scraping on the floor. They were getting up. Soon they'd discover her lurking out here in the dark and someone would no doubt try to hex her. She'd run out of time.

Taking a long deep breath, she steeled herself for what was to come and pushed the door open.

**A/N I know that this chapter was pretty graphic, but I didn't want to gloss over anything or make it prettier than it would be. I'm sorry if I offended anyone, but I DID warn you.**

**I know Dumbledore seems a little out-of-character in this chapter, but I did that on purpose. I think that even he would be pretty shocked and confused at seeing someone that he believed to be dead for thirteen years.**

**FYI-The style of this story is pretty much going to be one chapter from Erika's POV, one from Sirius's. That might change later, and there are going to be some intermissions, but for the most part, that's how it's going to be. **


	4. Chapter 4

The past few days had not been pleasant for Sirius. In light of the fact that they would soon be leaving, Molly had decided not to make any more extravagant dinners, opting instead for sandwiches and snacks. To make his life more miserable, Kreacher had lately taken to haunting his bedroom, no doubt on his mother's portrait's orders, trying to steal anything that might be of worth.

Worst of all, he now felt it necessary to avoid his godson whenever possible in an attempt to sidestep any possible questions he might bring up about their earlier conversation. Every time Sirius ducked into an empty bedroom or pretended to be busy with some important Order work, he felt more and more ashamed of himself. He knew the boy wanted to know about his godmother, but Sirius simply wasn't a strong enough man to provide him with the answers. His guilt was made worse by the fact that school would soon be starting and he wouldn't have a chance to be around Harry for months. Sometimes he wasn't sure if he was as grieved by that fact as he should have been. He went back and forth between longing for them all to stay and feeling anxious for them to leave. When he was by himself, he itched to be in a crowd. When he had company, all he wanted was to be left alone with a bottle.

Alone with a bottle was a situation that he found himself in quite frequently as of late. He had taken to drinking late into every night. Sometimes he could get drunk enough to fool himself into thinking that none of it had actually happened. It had all been some horrible nightmare and James would soon come running through the door to elbow him in the stomach and tell him to quit bitching. Then he would look around him in disgust, realize where he was, and take another bitter gulp of the burning liquid.

His aggression had also become a real problem lately, especially when he was forced to stay sober. Sometimes he felt so trapped by it that he wanted to pull his hair out or claw his way through a wall. He knew he was going mad. The most reasonable way to deal with his anger, he felt, was to take it out on the most deserving person, and in his mind, that person was his old headmaster. Dumbledore was the one that insisted he stay in his cage, and the way everyone acted around here, Dumbledore's word was law. He was also incredibly irritated at the way the man was treating Harry. It had crushed him when Harry had cornered him the other day and told him how upset he was about the way Dumbledore had ignored him at the trial. He'd already known the reasoning behind it, but disagreed wholeheartedly. It was true that he was avoiding his godson also, and for much less relevant reasons, but the thought of anyone else hurting Harry was almost more than he could bear.

The more Sirius thought about it, the more he was able to lay the blame for all of his problems at Dumbledore's feet. The old man didn't appear at Number Twelve often, but Sirius promised himself that the next time he did come round, Sirius would make sure to let him know in no uncertain terms what he thought of him.

To hold himself over until that time, Sirius had taken a chocolate frog card and tacked it to the wall opposite his bed. The picture was of the old man himself, and Sirius was currently throwing hexes at it, taking care to aim for his particularly large nose, when he heard a knock on the door. Slightly drunk, he saw no reason to hide his actions and left the evidence on the wall, daring his visitor to challenge him.

"Come in," he said gruffly, making sure that whoever it was knew he was in no mood for conversation.

Harry opened the door slightly and poked his head in.

"Hi," he said uncertainly. "Can I come in?" He sounded supremely nervous and Sirius was stricken by the thought that he had intimidated his godson so much that Harry could hardly approach him anymore.

"Of course," he said quickly, getting up. "I was just, uh…" He glanced at the picture that was alarmingly scarred and torn. "Just, well, you know," he finished lamely, feeling a little embarrassed.

Harry looked at the picture and then glanced back at Sirius with a small grin. "Yeah, I _do_ know."

As they looked at each other, both smiling in shared resentment, Sirius realized with an ache how like his father Harry was. He suddenly regretted how distant he had kept his godson, thinking that perhaps Harry might have been able to ease some of his edginess. That was what James would have done.

"Listen, Sirius," Harry began, looking down. "I'm sorry I brought up that book. I should have known it was a touchy subject. I didn't mean to make you angry or anything. I was just curious…"

"Stop, Harry," Sirius said holding up a hand. "You don't have to apologize for anything. It's hard to talk about, but that doesn't excuse my behavior. I'm sorry that I've been avoiding you. It's not your fault at all."

Harry smiled back, easily forgiving him.

Suddenly, a wave of realization swept over Sirius and he almost slapped a hand to his head in exasperation, wondering why he hadn't thought of it before.

"Can I show you something?" he said, standing and moving toward the door.

He led Harry up the stairs to the attic where Buckbeak was being kept. He swept the door open, pushing hard to clear the small animal bones and feathers out of the way. Trying to ignore the smell, he crossed the room to a large cupboard, which he opened and began to shuffle through.

"Can't believe I didn't think of this sooner," he mumbled as Harry looked over his shoulder with interest. "Should have given it to you years ago."

Finally he seemed to find what he was looking for, and Harry's face lit up as he recognized what the small box was. The pensieve wasn't as big as Dumbledore's, small enough to hold in his hands, but the silvery light that escaped from under the lid was exactly the same.

"During the first war, we all knew that each day might be our last. We wanted to leave behind something in case the worst should happen; something for others to remember us by. Your godmother and I decided to fill this pensieve with all of our best memories in it. I guess it's mostly us, but your mum and dad are in there plenty as well. It's yours if you want it."

Harry looked overwhelmed. "Sirius," he said softly. "I can't…Don't you want it?"

Sirius shook his head sadly. "I would have thrown it out with the scrapbook if I'd remembered that it was here." He held the small box out and Harry took it, holding it carefully but his face was ecstatic. He looked up at Sirius.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Sirius said in mock exasperation, and smiled as the boy hurried past him. "Go take a look!"

The smile immediately slid off his face once Harry was gone. He was glad that he could give him a picture of the lives of his parents' lives, as well as Erika's, and even more glad that he didn't have to explain everything to him personally. At the same time, he knew that bringing the pensieve out of hiding was dangerous for his own sanity. It would be so easy to dive in and never come out; simply reliving the good times over and over again. He knew that the best thing would be for Harry to take it with him to Hogwarts so that he, Sirius, would have no access to it.

As he passed Harry and Ron's bedroom door, he could hear Harry telling his friends enthusiastically about the present from his godfather. It wasn't long before the room went silent and Sirius knew they must already be inside, watching scenes from his past life. He continued down the stairs, determined to try to find something that would take his mind off of…any of it.

When it was time for dinner, the three children entered the dining room looking cheerful. Harry in particular appeared overjoyed at what he had seen in the pensieve and eager to discuss it. He seemed to be restraining himself, though, not wanting to offend or depress Sirius any further. Sirius didn't mention anything about the present. He was more than happy to let the children keep their silence. It had been hard enough knowing that the pensieve was in use; he didn't think he could stand talking about what they had watched.

Dinner was a painful experience. It was so difficult to try to force himself to plaster a smile on and take part in the monotonous conversations that Sirius almost choked on his food. He knew that he wasn't convincing anyone, especially Harry, but it was the best he could do and thankfully they didn't comment.

He didn't offer to help with the dishes when he was done, but went straight to his room and swallowed the rest of the firewhiskey in the bottle before immediately opening another and gulping down more. His thoughts became jumbled, drifting aimlessly from one subject to the next, until finally coming to a rest on the present he had given his godson. He remembered the day he and Erika had poured their thoughts into it, careful to leave the darker days. Throughout the process, they had talked about what it would be like for the survivors if the time came for them to go through it. They had assumed those survivors would be Lily and James.

Suddenly he couldn't stand it anymore. Thinking about Erika, James, and Lily, it was almost suffocating him. He had to watch some scene, _anything_ from his past. He looked at the clock on the wall; 1:48. Surely they would all be asleep. He cast a silencing spell as he left his room, but tried his best to keep quiet anyway. He made a face as he passed Molly and Arthur's room and heard rumbling snores from inside. Finally he stood in front of Harry's room. Pushing the door open slowly, he almost gasped out loud. The pensieve had been left open and the blue-silver light that danced around the room cast weird shadows everywhere. Even in his intoxicated state, Sirius had to stand back for a few moments in awe.

Luckily Harry and Ron were sound asleep, so he silently summoned the box to him, careful not to let it bump into anything as it floated eerily towards him. He caught it deftly and hurried back upstairs to his room, closing and locking the door behind him. As he slid into a sitting position on the floor, he found the he was nearly panting. He felt as if he'd held his breath the whole way, but as he gazed down at the pensieve, his breathing slowed. It was the only source of light in the room, and it was casting the same shimmering glow over the walls and furniture. Somehow, in his own bedroom, the light didn't seem as beautiful.

He opened the lid, and without even looking at what memory he was about to enter, he plunged his whole head into the liquid.

He plummeted head over heels into a massive tent that was lit with a soft glow from hundreds of floating candles hovering just above the heads of people dressed in their finest attire. A faint, almost unnoticeable smell of lilacs hung in the air, as well as a drowsy cheerfulness. The few couples that seemed determined to continue gently dancing across the dance floor were fading quickly. Everyone seemed tired and ready to call it a night, with the one exception of the groom. Sirius laughed at the enthusiastic look on his best friend's face. James was sitting with his new bride at one end of the tent and he looked as if he could live in this night forever, happy to be with the woman of his dreams.

Lily looked beautiful, just as Sirius remembered. Her legs were stretched out in front of her and the white dress draped across them elegantly. She looked content to stay where she was, watching the few remaining guests and occasionally sipping her slender glass of champagne. Every few minutes, James would glance over at her, as if he was afraid she might suddenly disappear. She would smile back reassuringly and stroke his hand.

Sirius stared at them for several long minutes, feeling sad but too drunk to remember why. As he stood in front of them, he started to sway in clumsy time to the slow tune that the band was playing. The song reminded him of something, but he didn't know what. He turned to look at the band, hoping it might come to him, and came face to face with his 22 year old self.

Stumbling backwards a few steps, he almost fell right into James's lap. He laughed as realized James wouldn't have known either way. His laughter died away as he turned back and watched his younger self sway gently back and forth, holding a beautiful woman in his arms. Erika's eyes were closed and she rested her head on her partner's shoulder. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a long kiss.

Sirius stepped forward until he was within inches of the dancing couple. He couldn't take his eyes off of them. They looked so happy. He tried to remember what he had been thinking at that moment, and suddenly cursed the alcohol that was clouding his mind.

As the song died away, the young man pushed the girl to arm's length and looked at her intently before saying a few words that Sirius couldn't hear. Erika nodded and began to head for the door. Sirius's younger self turned back to cast a glance at James and Lily, who suddenly looked excited and anxious. They smiled back at him at James gave him a thumbs-up. Sirius, looking nervous, turned and followed Erika out the door.

Watching them, Sirius blinked slowly as he realized what this night had really meant. It had been more than James's and Lily's wedding, more than a beautiful party. It was supposed to have been the beginning of his life with Erika. At least, that's what he'd thought. He followed the couple outside at a trot.

By the time he got out of the tent, he saw them standing a few hundred yards away under a large tree with low-hanging branches that blew slowly around them. The light from the crescent moon was shining brightly through the leaves, casting shadows on the ground. Sirius couldn't hear what he was saying, but he didn't need to. This moment had lived in his memory for so many years that there was no amount of alcohol that could cloud it.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you," he murmured out loud. "You make me happier than I ever thought I could possibly be. I always thought I was so independent, I didn't need anyone; but when I'm away from you I don't even feel alive anymore. You're everything to me." The young man was down on a knee and holding something up to her. "And I want to spend the rest of my life trying to be everything to you."

Sirius couldn't watch anymore. He pulled himself forcibly out of the memory, landing on his back on the floor of his bedroom. Feeling agony that he had never expected, he stared up at the cracked ceiling until sunlight began to creep over him. No, he did not have to worry about getting lost in the pensieve. He had no wish to ever enter the thing again. Instead of bringing back the emotions he had felt hat night, it only reminded him of what he had lost; what he should have now.

After returning the box to its previous location, (wobbling dangerously as he went,) he returned to his room and collapsed on his bed. Visions of the scene he had just witnessed played through his mind like clips from a movie. Eventually, the alcohol overpowered him and he was plagued by a troubled and nightmare-filled sleep.

**A/N I know the pensieve scene was kind of confusing, but it was hard to describe the old Sirius watching the young Sirius. Anyone with advice about that sort of thing, I'd love to hear it.**


	5. Chapter 5

The door slid back easily and silently at her touch, but the light that Erika had expected didn't come. It was a few seconds before she realized that she was squinting her eyes tightly shut. For a moment, she debated whether it would be possible to get through the whole thing without ever having to actually meet anyone's eyes, but, deciding that would be a little childish, she grudgingly opened one eye, then the other.

The sparkling, happy scene before was her was so foreign that she was struck dumb. The adults had finished their dinners and risen, gathering plates and silverware. A short, plump woman was chattering happily about the purchase of a new cooking pot to a tall, red-haired man who looked as if he could fall asleep where he stood, but was smiling nonetheless and trying to listen. A young man and woman were conversing intimately at the end of the table, completely ignoring their surroundings. Next to them sat a group of teenagers who were laughing at the enthusiastic antics of two red-haired twins.

They were all so caught up in their own conversations that no one noticed Erika's sudden and silent appearance. She hesitated; Sirius was nowhere in sight. These others were strangers to her. Doubtless they wouldn't know who she was and would be quite alarmed at having an intruder in their supposed safe house. Every instinct she had was telling her to get out of the room right away; to run. But that was quite impossible now. She had resigned herself to this moment, and she took another slow step forward.

A mess of black hair appeared behind one of the twins and a familiar face turned toward her. She would have known Harry anywhere but had worried so much about meeting Sirius that she was totally unprepared to see her godson. He looked so much like his father it hurt. She half expected him to jump out of his seat and tackle her to the ground and give her a wet-willy the way James would have. Instead he stared back at her in shock. She didn't know how it was possible, but he seemed to recognize her immediately. He said nothing though, and seconds passed as they gazed across the room at each other.

An ear-splitting crash shattered the moment and suddenly all eyes were on Erika. The plump woman had dropped the load of dirty dishes that had been hovering at chest level and broken glass lay scattered at her feet. She was staring at Erika in astonishment and recognition. Silence covered the kitchen like a blanket. Erika was frozen in her tracks. Her mind was completely blank. She was so terrified that she had almost forgotten why she had come. It was only when Sirius's voice drifted back to her from the pantry that she awoke from her daze.

"What's for dessert, Molly? I thought some homemade ice cream sounded good." The grin slid off his face as he rounded the corner and saw the bewildered look on his godson's face. He followed Harry's gaze in slow motion and finally saw Erika standing on the threshold.

The trance that had taken hold of the other occupants had broken on Sirius's return and they looked nervously from Sirius to Erika and back again. The silence continued until Harry spoke up.

"You're Erika Delian, aren't you?" he asked, though it didn't seem to be a question.

Before Erika could respond, before Harry had even finished the sentence, Sirius came striding across the room. Upon seeing her, he had looked shocked and confused. Suddenly he looked fierce and frightening. Erika wanted to cower on his approach, but forced herself to meet his ferocious stare unflinchingly. He didn't stop, however, when he got to her, but put a large hand around her throat and pushed her hard into the stone wall behind her.

"Who are you?" he whispered savagely, his face inches from hers. "Erika Delian is dead which means that you're an imposter. Tell me who you are and I'll give you ten seconds to get out of my house or you will not live to see another day."

"It is…" she choked out. He pushed her harder against the wall, nearly lifting her off her feet. "I am…it's me."

"Prove it," he said, so close that Erika could feel his breath on her face. He abruptly took his hand away, almost causing her to fall to the ground.

Massaging her neck and grimacing, she looked up into his face. She couldn't have expected any better reception, and was actually somewhat grateful that he, at least, was treating her the way she deserved.

The young man at the end of the table stood up and Erika was shocked to see Remus staring back at her. She wondered how she hadn't noticed him earlier. He looked nervous and surprised, but his voice was placating.

"Sirius," he began gently. "It might be…"

Sirius rounded on his friend. "It's not. You know it's not. You know she's dead."

"Let's just calm down, OK?" He sounded as if he was trying to quiet an excited child. "Sirius, think about it. How else would she have gotten in here if she were an imposter?"

"I don't know," he admitted, turning back to face Erika, the snarl still marring his face. "But that's all the more reason to kill her."

Remus rushed forward a few steps. "No, Sirius," he said, his tone forceful and commanding. "There must be some way to tell if it's her or not."

"Like I said; _prove it_," he said, almost spitting the words into her face.

Erika looked back at him defiantly. She knew she deserved his anger; knew that he was justified. But she couldn't help but feel anger of her own. He had always been able to do that to her. Without taking her eyes off of him, she lifted her wand and thought of the night that he had proposed. A flash of white exploded from her wand and a large, silver eagle soared once around the room before disappearing in a puff. She stared at where her patronus had vanished. Such a difference from that night to this one. It was as if they had come from two different lives, happening to two different people.

The look on Sirius's face was no longer anger, but one of pure devastation. He too was staring at where the eagle had disappeared, his mouth open in shock. He raked a hand through his tangled hair before turning back to Erika.

"Why?" he said quietly. "How could you run away?" He was looking at her as if he had never seen her before, as if it was impossible that she was standing before him. Erika felt lost in his grief. Knowing that there were no words that could explain or justify her betrayal, she wondered why she had come at all. She had yet to utter a single intelligible word and she knew she had to answer him, but still nothing came.

"Sirius…" she whispered, looking at the white tile floor. Her voice seemed to bring him back to himself and he straightened, hard and angry once more.

"You're not the woman I thought you were," he said in a cold voice.

She lifted her chin in defiance, even as the tears slid down her face. Pushing hard past her, he whipped the door open, causing it to band loudly against its hinges, and then he was gone. Erika was left staring at where he had been, praying that the others would let her disappear into the night without protest. Remus seemed to have other ideas. He crossed the room to her and embraced her in a tight hug.

"It's so good to see you," he said, holding her at arms length and looking her over. He was smiling sincerely at her, and Erika fell back into his arms and buried her tear-streaked face in his shoulder.

"I know I shouldn't be here," she said looking up at Harry who was still goggling at her.

"Nonsense," Remus said, again pushing her back to look her over, as if he couldn't believe that she was there. He looked behind her at the door Sirius had just disappeared behind. "He'll come round. It's just a shock. We've all thought you've been dead for thirteen years."

Erika looked down, the tears still slipping down her cheeks. "I know I should have come back. Years ago. I just…"

"Let's let them talk," the tall red-haired man said stepping forward. "Come on guys, time for bed."

The group of teenagers shuffled forward, staring openly at Erika as they went. The young woman stepped up to Remus and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning to Erika and offering her hand.

"I'm Tonks," she said shaking Erika's hand forcefully. "I've heard a lot about you, of course. I daresay we'll be seeing each other in the future."

Her tone was not as kind as her words and Erika got the distinct feeling that she, like Sirius, felt it would have been better to throw Erika out the moment she appeared.

Tonks followed the children through the kitchen door but Remus put a hand on Harry's shoulder as he made to accompany her.

"You can stay, Harry," he said smiling. "I would like to introduce you to your godmother. Harry, this is Erika."

They shook hands slowly. Erika wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and tried to smile.

"I promise I'm not this hysterical all the time," she said.

He looked back at her skeptically, leaning his head slightly to one side.

"Where have you been?" He didn't sound angry, but confused and somewhat hurt. His grief was far worse than rage. She sighed.

"I've lived as a Muggle near Edinburgh for the past thirteen years. I cut off all connections to the Wizarding world."

Harry looked taken aback. "Why? Why would you want to do that?"

Erika sat down at the table and motioned for Harry and Remus to do the same.

"When your parents died, I guess something just broke inside me. They were my family. Your dad and I grew up together and your mom became my best friend when we were in school."

Erika had expected that it would be harder to explain things to Harry than it had been to Dumbledore, but now that she was here she couldn't wait to get the words out. She didn't expect the boy to forgive her, but she wanted to give him the truth, or at least as much as she was able to tell.

"You may already know, but Sirius and I were engaged. We were due to be married that spring. I'd known him my whole life and when he was arrested, I knew he was innocent. I knew there was no way he would have given your family up, but I had no proof. Nobody took me seriously. They thought I was hysterical, crazed with grief, and just too heartbroken to admit the truth. The Ministry said I was a danger to you. They banned me from visiting you at your aunt's house. They said I wasn't stable enough to be around my own grandson. After a while I started to believe them. It was easier to convince myself that Sirius was a traitor and a murderer than it was to live with the fact that he was in jail for a crime he didn't commit. I, something happened…" she faltered, almost unable to go on. Remus looked up at her questioningly, but she continued determinedly. "I realized what a fool I'd been, what a coward. So to make matters even worse, I ran. I couldn't fight them anymore, so I had to leave."

She looked up at Harry, more pain in her eyes than Harry had ever seen before, yet she was no longer crying.

"I wanted to come back so many times, Harry. I wanted to see you and everyone else I'd left behind. But I'd been away so long that I didn't know how to come back."

Harry was peering at her as if he didn't know how to feel. Erika could see the conflicting emotions flicker across his face as he stared at her in silence. Finally, he nodded.

"That's enough for tonight," Remus said. "We'll all talk more tomorrow, but it's been a long day and I'm sure everyone's tired."

Harry looked as if he would protest, but deciding against it, he remained silent and stood up. At the door he paused and looked back at Erika hesitantly.

"I'm glad you're back," he said finally.

Erika smiled back at him. "I am, too."

Erika lay in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at a water spot on the ceiling above her. Despite what Remus had said, she was not tired at all. Her encounter with Harry had been smoother than she had expected, but Sirius's reaction to her return had wounded her deeply. No matter how much she knew she deserved his rage, she couldn't deny the fact that she had been foolishly hoping for a warm reception; that he would be so happy to see her after all these years that he would forgive the fact that she had willingly stayed away. Now she wondered if it would even be possible for them to live under the same roof.

Feeling exceedingly restless, she sat up and dangled her feet over the side of the bed. Sirius's parent's room was the only one that wasn't occupied. Erika was grateful for a bed, but the room reeked of Walburga. Everything from the ostentatiously decorated oak wardrobe to the large three-dimensional statue of the Black family crest spoke of her preoccupation with class and stature.

Erika crossed the room silently and poked her head out into the hallway. It was very late, but the night had been so eventful that she wouldn't be surprised if Harry were still awake with his friends. All was silent but she tiptoed down the hall, pausing for a moment at Sirius's door and wondering if he was lying awake like she had been.

At the end of the hall, she pushed open the door and climbed the stairs toward the attic. The smell met her before she reached the door. Curious, she slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open a few inches. One large, yellow eye stared back at her and she jumped back in alarm. Pulling out her wand and steadying herself, pushed the door open all the way and was met by a very sizable, very formidable-looking hypogriff. She bowed low, wondering why in the world an animal like this would be cooped up in the attic. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the hypogriff imitate her. She straightened and continued on her way across the room. She had to pull the neck of her shirt up to cover her nose, but once she got to the small, round window she threw it open and placed a cautious foot out and onto the shingles below. She climbed rather un-gracefully out of the window and slowly made her way across the roof.

She and Sirius had found this place when they were ten. The place where the three peaks of the roof met was flat, and an ideal hideout. It was impossible to see from either inside or outside the house, but it gave a perfect view of the whole yard and the stars above. This was the site of many sleepovers and long talks, as well as their first real kiss. It was the one place in the house that Erika could find peace.

However, when she got to the little valley, she found that it was already occupied. Sirius had his back to her and was leaning over the side of the roof, gazing up and around him at the stars.

Erika drew in a sharp breath. He looked beautiful; young again, as if none of the events of the past thirteen years had occurred at all. She had seen him in this pose so many times that it almost seemed natural to go put her arms around his chest and kiss the back of his neck. She didn't though. Instead she stood perfectly still, not wanting to break the moment, and watched him.

He turned his head a little so that she was able to see his profile and a shadow of a grin crossed his face before he turned back. Erika took a step back and began to shimmy her way to the window. She hesitated as she crawled in and smiled. _Perhaps there was hope after all._


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: Sex scene ahead. Nothing graphic, but I wanted you to be prepared.**

The morning dawned bright and clear, giving no indication of the events of the previous night. A feeble ray of light snaked its way through heavy folds of red velvet curtains and came to rest on the stubbled chin of a tormented man.

Sirius was lying spread-eagle on his moth-eaten bedspread, his eyes wide open and unmoving. He hadn't slept; he hadn't even tried. He'd spent the whole night battling with himself. By now he was to the point that it seemed nearly impossible even to blink. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face. Not the face of the girl he'd known in school, but the face of the woman who had appeared last night. She was cowardly, almost embarrassing. He would never have believed that they were the same person. He tried to convince himself that he felt nothing but contempt for her now, but the truth was far more complicated. He _did_ despise her for her weakness, but at the same time, he couldn't pretend that he hadn't been praying all these years for her to return to him somehow. Now that his prayers had been answered, nothing was as simple as he'd thought.

He'd gone to Remus hours earlier to interrogate him about any information he had received from Erika. He'd found out about her Muggle disguise; her shame and guilt. His lip curled at the thought of it. He pictured her happily walking the streets, blissfully ignoring the fact that he was in his own personal hell; that he was near destruction from the lack of her presence. She'd probably even had lovers since Sirius. It had been thirteen years and she was a free woman; what else could he expect? Growling angrily at the thought, he raised both hands and rubbed his face hard, as if he could scrub the image from his head.

She was mere yards from him now. He could nearly feel her presence. All he needed to do was open the door and walk down the hallway, and she'd be there. The thought made him a little dizzy and for a moment he considered doing just that. But the war within him waged on and he didn't even get to the door before turning back. He repeated this pattern several times in the next hour, but couldn't get farther than turning the handle.

He wanted to confront her. He wanted to force her to answer his questions. Most of all, he wanted to see her. Her disappearance had tormented him from the day he'd escaped. He had, of course, assumed she was dead. He could understand why she'd left, but there was no reason for her to stay away so long. She would never have abandoned Harry. And of course after hearing about the failure of the extensive search parties that were sent out after her, he knew there was no other explanation. Apparently, he had misjudged her.

There were moments during the night when he considered forgiving all. It would have been so easy to pretend none of it ever happened and that she was the same girl he had fallen in love with all those years ago. But reality always came charging back to him. Erika was not the same girl he had loved, and he couldn't gloss over that fact.

A door creaked in the hallway, and muffled footsteps and voices passed Sirius's room on the way downstairs. Breakfast would be served soon. The thought of sharing a meal with Erika made his stomach turn over unpleasantly. Instead, he ignored his hunger and continued to torment himself with thoughts of Harry living needlessly without a family and Erika with other men.

Sleep must have finally overtaken him, because when Sirius opened his eyes again, the light streaming in was strong and bright. It was probably around midday.

Sitting up unsteadily, he pressed a hand to his temple. An insistent ache was cutting through his head. Confused, he tried to remember if he had broken into his supply of alcohol, because the pounding at his forehead and the stiffness in his joints felt exactly like an overpowering hangover.

"_Wish I would have earned it,_" he thought grumpily to himself as he swung his legs to the other side of the bed.

Finally deciding that he couldn't hide in his room forever, he started to make his way slowly and groaningly toward the door when his eyes caught the rather abused picture of his old headmaster. A frown crossed his face as a thought occurred to him, and he yanked the door open and strode purposefully down the hall.

He pounded hard on Erika's door, but as he stood waiting he felt less indignant, less brave than he wanted, and more nervous. Desperate to maintain his resentful attitude, he crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall.

Erika took an unnecessarily long time to open the door, but when she did she looked as if Sirius was the last person she expected, or wanted to find on the other side.

Looking into her eyes, Sirius felt his composure slipping further. He tried his best to glare at her.

"Does Dumbledore know you're back?" he asked, relieved that his voice was icy and cruel.

It was a few seconds before Erika recovered.

"Yes, I went to see him at the school."

Sirius dropped his arms and stood up straight. That had not been the answer he had expected. He took a step closer to her, but she did not back down.

"You met with Dumbledore before you even saw your own godson?" he said in a dangerously soft voice.

Erika's mouth dropped open and her expression quickly went from nervous shock to outrage.

"How was I supposed to find him?" she asked in a tight voice. "I had no idea where he was, and even if I had, how would I have gotten in here without talking to Dumbledore?"

Sirius's glare didn't falter and he spoke with the same hostile calmness.

"I would have thought you would assume he was still at Lily's sister's. That seems like the most logical place to go first…especially since you _knew_ her."

Erika pulled herself up to her full height and stared daringly back into his eyes.

"He might have been anywhere. The only person whose location I could be sure of was Dumbledore, so _that's_ where I went. Besides," she continued, her tone softening a fraction. "Why do you care what my motives were anyway? You made it very clear last night that you want nothing to do with me."

Sirius's scowl deepened; he looked more like a ferocious animal than a man. He stepped closer, nearly stepping on her feet in the process. For several seconds they merely glowered at each other, not speaking. Then, unexpectedly, the façade faded. Sirius's voice softened and he looked away.

"How could you leave?" The anger seemed to have left him completely. He now sounded too tired to be angry. "Harry was alone with those people. _You _were his family and you just left him. Left to go live your own life, to forget about everything, all of us."

Erika seemed to be trembling by the time he finished speaking, and she looked as if she had no intention of answering. Her eyes were dry, but distant, as if she was putting all of her effort into not hearing what his words. Her eyes remained unfocused, but speech seemed to come to her, as though someone else was talking for her.

"Sirius, you don't know…"

"I know everything!" he yelled suddenly, effectively cutting her off and bringing her back to the present. "I know the Ministry banned you from seeing him! I know you were the only one who defended me! But that's not enough! You should have stayed and suffered like the rest of us! If we couldn't escape, why should you? God, you're no better than Peter! You're nothing more than cowards who abandoned their friends."

Silence filled the hallway after Sirius's tirade. He was breathing hard, but was relieved that he had been able to bring back the anger that he'd been feeing all night.

Rather than looking ashamed and guilty at Sirius's accusations, Erika's face became stony, resentful. Some deep, unknown feeling lurked under the surface that Sirius couldn't place. It made him nervous.

"You don't know anything," she said coldly before striding past him. Seconds later Sirius heard the front door slam.

"That's right!" he shouted, though he knew full well she wouldn't be able to hear him. "Run away! That's always what you were best at!"

Erika didn't return that night. Or the next. Sirius was left lying in bed, wondering where she was and who she was with, what she was doing and if she would come back. He made frequent trips downstairs to interrogate the others. Soon, he no longer needed to say anything before Remus would shake his head and reply "Nothing yet," to his unasked question.

Sirius was now dreading the first of September. He could not remember a day that had filled him with so much apprehension. He was worried for his sanity. The thought of being alone in the house had once simply been distasteful. He would rather have had his godson around, but without him he knew he could spend his time in peaceful intoxication. Now, however, when he pictured himself deserted and confined in Number Twelve, he wanted to kill something.

Despite Sirius's attempts to forget, the first came nonetheless. The Weasleys, restless and impatient to be on their way, were waiting for Harry outside while he awkwardly said goodbye to Sirius.

"I suppose the next time we'll be back is Christmas?" Harry said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. They'd hardly spoken to each other since Erika's disappearance. Harry seemed to understand that the subject was too painful and had not mentioned anything. It was as if Erika had never returned.

"The time'll fly; we'll be seeing each other again before you know it." Sirius's voice sounded artificially optimistic, even to him. Sighing, he immediately decided to drop his pathetic attempt at cheerfulness and pulled his godson into a tight hug. "Be careful," he muttered.

Harry grinned back at him. "Not _too_ careful though, right?" he said, his tone suddenly lighter.

Sirius ruffled his hair but as he watched his godson walk out the door, his stomach sank. Now he was truly alone. Remus had left hours earlier on business for the Order. Molly and Arthur would be returning to the Burrow. And it was doubtful that Kingsley, Tonks or the others would be turning up anytime soon to give him information or company.

Sirius suddenly felt more frenzied than ever before. He felt like the walls around him were closing in and it was becoming harder to breathe.

Fearing that he might do something desperate, he went for the liquor cabinet and pulled out the first bottle he found.

The next week at Number Twelve was spent in confusing semi-consciousness. Sirius could no longer tell whether he was awake or asleep, but it didn't much matter. Whenever he felt himself drift toward the verge of sobriety, he'd go on another impressive bender.

He had no interaction or communication with any other being except for Kreacher, whom he tried to make as miserable as he was. He went days without allowing the elf any food. He threw things, shouting obscenities and threatening him to within an inch of his life. Soon, Kreacher locked himself in his cabinet and refused to come out, leaving Sirius to scream at his prison, cursing the walls and praying that they would relent and come crashing down on his head. The house, however, remained still and silent, calmly accepting his abuse and providing no response.

Through a haze of alcohol, it distantly occurred to Sirius that it was Saturday. Erika had been gone for two weeks to the day and nobody had heard anything from her. He didn't even know if anyone was looking for her. He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter to him, that he didn't care if he ever saw her again, but a sudden ferocious clap of thunder refuted the lie.

The rain began abruptly, as if someone had turned a faucet on. Sirius listened to the waves of it break upon the house. It sounded like some enormous and far away engine was being revved up over and over again.

The smell of his week-long binge was beginning to make him sick. Leaning over the side of his bed, he retched uncontrollably onto the floor. No longer even able to raise the bottle to his lips, he slowly and painfully returned to sobriety.

Just as Sirius felt his eyes begin to shutter closed, a sound jerked him back to consciousness. Over the roar of the rain, he was sure he had heard a knock on the door.

Quickly scooping up his wand, he cautiously made his way down the stairs. Anyone knocking on the door had to know the location of Grimmauld Place. Anyone who knew the location of Grimmauld Place wouldn't need to knock. Standing in a ready pose and holding his wand at chest level, he swung the door open.

Erika stood before him, looking like some kind of wet animal. She was soaked from head to toe and the look on her face was one of hunger and desperation.

"I thought you might hex me if I just came in," was all she said as Sirius gaped at her. She seemed to have no intention of entering the house and Sirius made no move to welcome her in. Shocked beyond speech, he remained silent, his mouth hanging slightly. Then reason and self-control abandoned him.

In one swift movement, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her roughly to him while his lips crashed into hers almost painfully. He couldn't tell if she was responding to his kiss, but it mattered very little to him. It was a few seconds before her hands found their way to his chest and he realized she was trying to escape. He tightened his hold on her and pressed himself against her more fiercely.

Erika must have realized that Sirius wasn't going to release her and she became still, allowing him to grope and ravage her at his will. When he moved his lips to her neck, she unexpectedly pulled his head back up, kissing him with a hunger that equaled his own. He let out a groan of pleasure as one hand tangled itself in his hair while she dug her nails into his back with the other.

The rain continued to pour down on them and Sirius was soon as drenched as Erika. Before he knew what he was doing, his hands had moved to the back of her thighs and he lifted her off the ground. Her legs circled his waist eagerly and he stumbled back towards the door, groping desperately with one hand for the knob, finally throwing it open with enough force to make it slam against the wall. He staggered into the living room, not bothering to shut the door while sheets of water poured into the house.

Upon reaching the couch, Sirius collapsed on top of Erika, but before continuing his onslaught, he paused to look down at her, the way he had so many times when they were younger. Immediately he wished he hadn't. The look of hunger and desire hadn't faded from her face, but it was now tinted with pain and guilt. Pushing the question of why from his mind, he quickly dipped his head down to kiss her roughly again, at the same time beginning to take off her jeans.

In a flash of light, both of their clothes were gone. He looked up at Erika in surprise, but she wasted no time in pulling his head back down to her. He moaned appreciatively as she slid her tongue up his neck, causing goosebumps to erupt down his back. He couldn't stand the anticipation any longer, and lunged into her. Instantly he knew this would not be a long session, as Erika arched her back and groaned with pleasure.

This was how he had always pictured their reunion. He had thought that if she had ever found her way back to him, that they would both be so overcome by emotion that they would instantly fall into each other's arms not letting go for hours. He suddenly regretted his hostility toward her. This was how he should have welcomed her back.

"I love you, Erika," he whispered into her ear and tenderly kissed her neck.

She stiffened under him, no longer responding to his slow, rhythmic movements. He noticed immediately and looked questioningly down into her face. She didn't respond, nor did she move. She lay there, apparently horrified, before suddenly pushing him away.

Puzzled and hurt, he rolled off of her to sit on the couch. She sat up, but refused to meet his eyes, instead propping her elbows on her knees and resting her head in her hands.

"What?" he asked, his pain obvious in his voice. She didn't answer, but Sirius saw a single tear drop through her fingers. He moved to kneel on the ground in front of her and took both of her wrists in his hand, gently prying her hands apart.

"What is it?"

Tears rolled down her face as she shook her head.

"I can't do this," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. She extricated herself from his grip and rose. Sirius didn't rise or to try to stop her as he watched her walk away, but at the staircase she paused.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," she said softly without looking at him, and continued up the stairs.


	7. Chapter 7

"_It's amazing how small a house can become in such a short amount of time," _Erika thought as she lay on her back on top of the thin blanket covering Walburga's bed, absentmindedly twirling her wand between her fingers.

Since her second return to Number Twelve, she had been able to avoid speaking to Sirius, yet she wasn't exactly sure how she had accomplished it so far. She knew that he was itching to confront her, yet he had not yet forced the issue. He was being uncharacteristically patient and it unnerved her. She didn't know what his plan was, but she knew he had one. That knowledge made her even more uncomfortable because her only course of action at the present moment was to do whatever necessary to keep her distance.

Dumbledore had owled her saying that the next time he visited Grimmauld Place he would have an assignment for her, but given how busy he was at the school, there was no telling when that would be. Until that time, she had even less to keep her busy than Sirius did, and they both knew it.

The first time he cornered her after their embarrassing and painful encounter he grudgingly accepted her lies of "being too busy" and "on her way out," but when she stepped back through the door that night he was sitting in the living room in the dark waiting for her. The brief look of relief mingled with hurt, anger, and isolation on his face was enough to guilt her into not leaving the house again.

Now her only choice was to lock herself in Walburga's bedroom. He would knock several times a day, but every time Erika would lay silent, pretending she wasn't there, yet realizing that he knew better. Her actions were indeed a bit childish, but the thought of actually facing him was far more fearful, and Sirius had not forced his way into her room…yet.

Erika had no doubt that eventually they would come to blows and, as much as she hated the thought, she knew the truth would come out. She didn't try to fool herself into thinking that he would understand. Any chance at reconciliation or forgiveness would be gone. Even more painful though, was the thought of how deeply the knowledge would wound him. So for the time being, she was content to avoid the subject, as well as him.

Sirius spent most of the days prowling around the house in mild intoxication, waiting for Erika to emerge. The only time she could be sure that he would not be outside the door waiting for her was in the early morning, before the sun rose. From experience, she knew that he would be in the deep recesses of a drunken haze and would either be passed out or too drunk to hear her.

One morning found her devouring a stale sandwich in record time over the kitchen sink. An amused voice stopped her cold in mid-bite.

"You're going to choke if you keep going at that rate."

She lowered the half-eaten sandwich slowly before turning to face Sirius. He was leaning casually against the open door, his arms crossed in front of him. He looked as if he had been standing there a while. A small smile played across his lips.

"I was hungry," she replied lamely, her mouth still full of food.

He nodded. "So I see. Please, don't let me interrupt," he said, sitting down at the table and gesturing for her to continue. "I'm quite enjoying the show."

Erika swallowed the rest of her food and cleared her throat before responding.

"Then you're easily entertained," she said wryly. "What are you doing up at this hour anyway?" She was immensely surprised at how calm she sounded. Inside she felt like bolting past him out the door, perhaps stunning him first so he couldn't say anything else. At the same time, something about his easy presence made her want to stay.

"Why shouldn't I be up at this hour?" he asked, threading his fingers together behind his head and leaning the chair back on two legs. "I don't exactly have to be up early for anything, now do?"

She eyed him carefully, noticing the barely concealed tone of resentment in his voice.

"Mmmm," was all she could think of to say.

"And what about you?" he asked, surveying her out of the bottoms of his eyes, his head still tilted toward the ceiling. "Surely this isn't your _normal_ feeding time?"

She tilted her head toward him in smirking acknowledgement of the jab, and pulled back a chair on the opposite end of the table. Once she had sat down, however, she could think of nothing to say. Sirius saved her the trouble.

"I'm sorry."

She had been intently studying her fingernails, but at his words she looked up in surprise.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" she asked frowning.

"For the way I acted when you came back," he said, suddenly serious. "It wasn't fair. I should have listened to you. I was just surprised; I thought you'd been dead for years. I missed you, but I never really expected to see you again."

He sounded sincere, but she could tell from his intent expression that he was expecting something from her, perhaps an explanation. One that she was most definitely not ready to give.

"Don't be sorry," she said in what she hoped was a dismissive tone. "It's the reaction I was expecting to be perfectly honest."

A faint grin crossed his face and Erika knew that he could see right through her, just as he always had. She felt her cheeks redden and looked back down at the table to avoid his eye.

"You knew I was going to throw you against the wall and threaten you to within an inch of your life?"

Trying to buy some time, she scratched at a small burn mark on the wood. After several long minutes passed, in which Sirius continued to watch her patiently, she finally looked up.

"I knew it was a possibility anyway."

He nodded in understanding and rose from his chair. As he walked around the table toward her, an uncontrollable anxiety overtook her. His proximity felt like a physical weight; one that she wasn't sure was entirely unpleasant. Just when she was on the verge of jumping out of her skin, he came to a stop in front of her.

Her nervousness seemed to have little effect on him; he leaned casually against the table and surveyed her in amusement, not bothering to hide an arrogant smirk.

After several moments of tracing the lines in the table, Erika could no longer stand his smug scrutiny.

"Oh, sod off," she said impatiently, finally looking up at him.

He only grinned wider and gave a small chuckle.

A loud but muffled voice caused both of them to jump to their feet, drawing their wands and looking around in alarm.

"It's Phineas," Sirius said after a few tense seconds.

Erika followed close at his heels as they raced up the stairs to the bedroom on the second landing where Sirius's long-dead relative's photograph was making quite a lot of noise yawning and sighing in a bored sort of way.

"What is it? What's happened, is it Harry?" Sirius asked tensely.

"Yes and no," was Phineas's vague response.

"Well…?"

Sighing dramatically, he continued. "It seems the Potter boy had some kind of vision. He saw Arthur Weasley being attacked by a giant cockroach or something of that sort. Dumbledore seems to think it might actually have happened. He wants to know if the lot of them will be able to come here until he has more information."

"Of course, of course," Sirius said quickly, obviously relieved that Harry was alright. "Get them here as soon as possible."

Phineas gave a grudging bow and disappeared out of the frame.

Erika and Sirius stood in silence. The feeling of dread that Erika now had in her chest was all too familiar. Although she wasn't particularly familiar with the Weasley father, the thought of being thrown back into the midst of the pain and anguish of war was too much. This was how it had been during the first war; snatches of information about someone being hurt, another being killed, and the long wait for more facts. Suddenly she wanted to bury her head in Sirius's chest while he stroked her hair and told her everything would be alright. She looked up and their eyes met. She had the strangest sensation that he was thinking the same thing she was.

Just as quickly as it came, the moment passed. A loud whoosh announced the arrival of the children downstairs. As Sirius and Erika met them in the living room, all wore expressions of barely-suppressed fear.

Hours passed with nothing but silence and grief weighing down on them. No one spoke. No one moved. They were all waiting expectantly for some news, but it seemed that the night would last an eternity.

Hoping for some relief from the overwhelming pressure, Erika escaped to the kitchen under the guise of refilling her cup. Sitting down, she collapsed and pressed her forehead against the cool surface of the table.

She wasn't used to this much anxiety. Her existence as a Muggle, although somewhat dull and depressing, was never this dramatic. She had forgotten how it felt to worry about others, to care what happened to the people around you. And, despite the fact that the nervous nausea that was currently rolling around in her stomach was not at all pleasant, for the first time in many years, she felt human again.

A tender hand on the back of her head surprised her out of her musings.

"You alright?" he asked, taking a seat beside her, though not withdrawing his hand which continued to gently caress her hair.

"Of course," she said. "I don't even know him. I'm just worried about Harry."

In spite of her almost indifferent response, something in her eyes gave her away. She could read the worry in Sirius's face, and suddenly all of her strength left her. There was something about sitting at the table next to him, seeing him worry about her that comforted her much more than any words could. She didn't even have the energy to move away when he moved his hand down to her cheek.

"It's almost like before, isn't it?" he asked.

She nodded, feeling the truth of his statement far more than he had intended. Deciding that, for tonight, she could let her barriers down, she placed a hand over his and rubbed her cheek against it before lowering her head to burrow into his chest.

**A/N I know it's kind of a short one, but I wanted to get this chapter up before I go on vacation. The next one will have to wait until after I get back.**


	8. Chapter 8

Sirius had never understood why people liked to claim that "some things never change

**A/N I apologize for the unacceptably long wait on this chapter. My only excuse is an unexpected and unceasing fight with writer's block. To be honest, I'm still not happy with this one, but I guess I'm just too impatient to perfect it. Hopefully getting this chapter up will get me back in the swing of things and the next one won't take nearly as long. So…to anyone who's added this story to their Alerts or Favorites, or for anyone who's been waiting impatiently for updates, I beg your forgiveness and offer Chapter 8 for your approval/dismissal/perusal.**

Sirius had never understood why anyone would say that "some things never change." What exactly is it that never changes? He himself had never been able to pinpoint any object, event, place, and especially not any person that _never_ changed. And if there was, in fact, some strange phenomena that _did_ stay the same for all of eternity, what exactly would be the point?

This slightly odd string of thoughts ran through his head as he watched Erika slowly and methodically run a paint roller up and down the walls of her bedroom.

The woman in front of him was proof positive for his silent musings. She didn't even stay the same from one day to the next. The crowd of people that had suddenly filled Grimmauld Place for the holidays seemed to have thrown her completely off-kilter. Her mood changed with the wind. Sometimes she was quiet, sulking, and moody. She longed to isolate herself, yet she seemed unwilling to hide in her room any longer. Instead she took out her frustration on any unfortunate being that happened to cross her path. These symptoms had become easily recognizable to the house's residents and she was given a wide berth at these times.

Then without warning the switch would flip. She craved company. She was cheery, talkative, bubbly. It was during these times that she would sit in the living room with Harry and his friends, entertaining them with stories about James and Lily; she'd spend hours cooking dinner with Molly, laughing and gossiping like teenage girls; she would sit with Arthur and converse endlessly about Muggle contraptions that Sirius had never heard of.

It was this lively, happy woman that Sirius trusted least.

He had known Erika all his life and had never seen this side of her. It simply wasn't part of her personality. She was wry, sassy, ironic, but there had never been this level of liveliness, overexcitement even. There was something about watching her double over in laughter at a prank pulled by Fred and George that piqued Sirius's curiosity. Her emotions and actions were exaggerated, as if she were a player in some Mexican soap opera. He'd begun to suspect that all of this overacting was some kind of dramatic front, but for the life of him he couldn't discern the reason behind it.

To make things more confusing Sirius realized that there was now a third side to her, and although it didn't appear as often, it was one that he was very familiar with. When she was alone with Remus and Sirius, the real Erika emerged.

If the others happened to go to bed early they would stay up drinking late into the night, sometimes reminiscing about their days at Hogwarts, sometimes simply sitting quietly and watching the fire. Despite the fact that their numbers were cut in half from the original six, it felt much the way it should have. They were merely old school chums, enjoying each others' company. Sirius could look at Erika and see the way their lives were meant to turn out. He looked at her and felt seventeen again.

This was the persona that met Sirius when he entered his parents' old bedroom and found Erika with a paint roller in her hand.

"It's so dark in here," she stated simply as she leisurely rolled the brush up and down the wall. Sirius leaned a shoulder against the door and crossed his arm, an amused smile playing across his face.

"There _is_ an easier way, you know."

She turned her head slowly and looked at him reproachfully. "I prefer _my_ way. So if you don't mind..." Sirius didn't move.

"Sort of strange if you ask me," he continued, gazing around the room at her half-finished work. "If I remember correctly you used to have a little bit of skill in the magical department and something like this would take little to no time or effort."

"And then what, oh King of Wisdom and Knowledge of _Everything_?" she said, sighing exasperatedly and turning to face him fully. "After finishing this very important task, what should I spend my oh-so-valuable time doing? Staring out the window? Maybe I should paint my toenails for the twenty-_third_ time today? Or better yet, I could go have a nice long chat with Kreacher about the finer points of the Muggle rights movement. Now if you'll excuse me." She turned her back on him determinedly and resumed her steady paint strokes.

Trying very hard not to laugh, Sirius picked up a spare brush and took up a position next to her.

"Point taken," he said with a smile and keeping his eyes on the wall in front of him. Erika seemed unable to hold back a grin herself.

"What?" she asked, surveying him out of the corner of her eye. "What's so funny?" He shrugged carelessly.

"You," he said, and continued when she let out a huff of indignation. "Me...us, all of this." He gestured around him somewhat helplessly without taking his eyes from the wall in front of him.

There was a pause as Erika let her arm fall to her side and turned to face him.

"What exactly does that mean?"

He didn't answer immediately, intentionally letting his somewhat cryptic statement hang in the air as he continued his deliberate strokes.

"I just wonder how long this is going to go on, that's all."

Erika stared at him in silence for several long moments before answering, perhaps scared to inquire further. It was apparent that she couldn't help herself.

"Oh would you knock it off?" she finally cried in exasperation, tossing her roller to the ground and splattering both of them with quite a lot of light blue paint. "Just say what you mean, you know I hate it when you do this! How long iwhat/i is going to go on?"

He took a step closer to her and dropped his brush as well, resigned now to battle it out.

"You know _what! This!_ This weird thing that's going on with us! I know you're not ready to tell me what happened to you and that's fine. I get it. But even you can't pretend to deny that there's still something between us and it's something big. And as much as you try to fight it, you're just building up all this…_tension_ and it's _killing_ me! And now that I've said it out loud it's just going to get worse so I'd like to know how long you're planning on keeping up this little parade because it's really getting old."

He smiled a little at the shocked look on her face, though he hadn't meant to be quite so intense about it.

"Look," he continued, composing himself a little and lowering his voice. "I know how I feel. You know how I feel. None of _my_ feelings have changed. But I just don't have any idea where I stand with you. I have no idea how _you_ feel." He gave a small chuckle. "It's like we're right back in sixth year."

She didn't speak and her expression didn't change. It was a long time before she appeared able to form coherent thought.

"I'm sorry."

Whatever Sirius had been expecting, an apology wasn't it. Unable to stop his mouth from dropping open unattractively, he gaped at her and shook his head disbelievingly.

"What does that mean? What do you mean 'you're sorry'?" He felt like his head was going to explode and suddenly and very pragmatically realized that this girl would surely be the end of him. He started pacing back and forth, occasionally throwing incredulously suspicious looks her way.

"I've spent months trying to figure out what I was doing wrong; what was different than before, because it all seemed to work pretty well for me the first time around. But I just couldn't figure it out. I thought maybe you and I had just changed so much that the same old thing wasn't going to work anymore. And now all you can say is you're sorry? Forgive me, but my poor, incoherent brain just can't work this out. Will you just tell me, once and for all, what _is_ this, Erika? What do you want from me?"

"Jesus, Black, if you want an answer why don't you take a breath and let me give you one?" Erika exclaimed with a dramatic eye-roll, her composure as well as her irritation obviously back. She lowered her voice and for once met his concentrated stare unflinchingly.

"It means you're right. Don't think that I don't realize how moody and crazy I've been acting. One minute I'll bite the head off of anyone within a twenty-yard vicinity and the next I'm this maniacally cheerful lunatic. I don't blame you for being confused or suspicious...or for wanting to punch me in the head sometimes for that matter," she added as an afterthought. Sirius studied her unsmilingly as she took a breath and collected herself before continuing.

"The thing is that I'm not doing it on purpose. I'm not playing a role, despite what you might think. I'm still just trying to get used to this life; being around people I care about, being around you..." she left the statement hanging, as if that in itself was more than she could handle.

"And you're right, you don't know everything. You don't know everything about what happened after they took you away and you don't know what I've done or what I've gone through since then. And I'm sorry I can't tell you everything right now. You deserve the truth, no matter how much I don't want to give it to you. But it's still too painful and confusing and I need to deal with everything myself before I can even begin to explain it. And yes, I know how infuriating that is to you," she added with a grin after seeing the frustrated look on his face.

"But I'll make you a promise." She held her hand out to him with an air of determination. "The second I feel like I can do this without going crazy, you'll know the whole story...for better or for worse."

He stared at her a second longer while her arm hung stiffly between them. Far from alleviating his concern, her little speech had only served to further unease him. Though he'd known that he was missing something, he'd thought that as soon as it was out in the open they would be able to move past it. Erika on the other hand seemed to think that it would be the end. He'd sensed the guilt in her voice and wasn't comforted by it. But after several moments of contemplation, he took her hand. He had little other choice.

"Deal," he said and squeezed gently before stooping to pick up his forgotten paintbrush.

**A/N Was it worth the wait? Doubtful, but I hope you all liked it anyway. I know not a lot happens in this one, (which is maybe why it was so hard to write in the first place,) but I thought it was necessary.**

**Also, I have a wonderful beta, but she's got a million and one things going on in her life as well right now, so if anyone would like to help me out or if you know of a good beta I'd be forever grateful.**


	9. Chapter 9

A/N Chapter 9, re-done. I decided to split this chapter up since it was very long and a very important part within the story. The old Chapter 9 seemed rushed to me. If you've already read the old version, the basics are still the same. I'd love for you to read it over again though! It would be nice to know if any of you think this is an improvement. The next chapter will be the second half of this chapter, and will be posted later today. The next chapter, (first NEW chapter in almost a year,) will be up hopefully by the end of this week.

Remus Lupin had never been surrounded by so much panicked estrogen in his entire life.

It wasn't as though he was unfamiliar with hysterical females. Gentle and thoughtful by nature, women had often sought him out when they needed advice or a shoulder to cry on, but this level of feminine hysteria was entirely foreign. Even during the first battle he had never encountered two women so utterly frantic as Erika and Molly had recently become. It was bad enough that he was constantly approaching the breaking point, but the way they seemed to tag team him was almost criminal. It was a common occurrence for him to get one woman settled down and breathing normally just in time for the other to break down into a fit about broken cooking utensils, mismatched paint colors or some other nonsense.

He could almost understand the basis for Molly's hysterics. With so much of her family involved in work for the Order, she had more to lose than any of them. Her maniacal outbursts almost always coincided with recent news of the developing danger and could usually be temporarily soothed with talk of "taking all necessary precautions" and the "progress made since the last war". She would retreat to the kitchen, sloppily swabbing at her sopping face. For hours he would hear her embarrassed chuckling and mutterings about getting control of herself. He would sigh and sink down into the nearest armchair, praying for a break from the insanity.

Respite never lasted long though and Erika's problems were much more difficult to comprehend, making her outbursts that much more frustrating for him. Often he wouldn't even be able to discern what it was that had upset her before she was gone. He'd once read an article in a muggle newspaper that had mentioned the mechanics of a _drive-by_. When he was watching Erika's quickly retreating back, this article would come back to him with forceful familiarity.

Every time he would tell himself that he was done trying to make sense of her situation, but there was something about her hysterics that unnerved him. She'd never been an overly emotional person. Quite the opposite, in fact; she'd often been infuriatingly guarded. Remus could remember the way Sirius would torture himself trying to figure out where he stood in his relationship with her.

It was this irritating confusion that finally pushed Remus to a drastic decision: he would have to pry the truth out of her.

Standing in front of her door in the waning light of dusk, Remus told himself for the umpteenth time, _this is the only way_, yet still he hesitated. He had become very close with Erika once she and Sirius had started dating, but before that he had been more than a little intimidated by her. Sarcastic, arrogant, and cagey, she was unpredictably cruel and kind depending on her mood. And although her relationship with Sirius had softened her, the new and confusing demeanor that she had adopted since her return left Remus slightly nervous in her presence.

In addition to his insecurity, he also felt that interrogating her might be out-of-bounds. After all, Sirius had been trying to coerce her into talking for months with no result. Why would she be more liable to speak to Remus and, more importantly, shouldn't Sirius be the first to know about her past, should she decide to confess?

Before he could find the nerve to knock on her door, it swung open rather forcefully and Remus found himself lying flat on his back, a bloody hand covering his even bloodier nose.

"Oh, Remus!" Erika cried as she helped him up. "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

He tried to nod while tilting back his head and still clutching his quickly swelling nose as she led him back into her room.

"I'b fide" he said, grasping for the nearest armchair. "Dad's wat I ged for lurkig id doorways."

"Stop moving," she said, more calmly now as she carefully pushed his hand out of the way and held a wand to his face. A few murmured charms later and he felt a pleasant warmth spread from his nose out toward his ears and forehead.

"Thanks," he said as he gingerly felt his healed nose. "I guess I should be grateful for those Healing lessons you took."

He looked up at her but Erika didn't respond as she set her wand back inside a worn mahogany cabinet.

"Well?" she said, her back still facing him as she sifted through the contents of the drawer.

"Well, what?" he responded, trying in vain to wipe the blood from his face. The sudden coldness that had crept into her voice sent a chill of wariness down his spine. She turned to face him.

"What do you want? You've got something to talk to me about, right? Something you're not exactly eager to talk about, or you wouldn't have been 'lurking in doorways'."

Unprepared for the onslaught, Remus could only stare up at her, his mouth slightly agape.

"Let's get it over with then."

This was not how he'd pictured the conversation going, and he was a little baffled by her sudden hostility.

She looked worn, he noticed for the first time. It wasn't immediately noticeable. In fact he'd been relatively shocked by how little Erika had changed in the last decade. Unlike the rest of them, stress and suffering seemed to have had no physical affect on her. Sirius had been especially unsettled by this, wondering aloud if perhaps she'd been able to forget completely about the people she'd left behind. Looking at her now, though, Remus could see the marks of a troubled past. From the slight frown lines around her mouth to the light crease between her eyebrows that never seemed to leave, it was written in subtle imprints all over her face. His own tension departed as he felt a surge of compassion for her.

"What happened to you?" he asked quietly, finally remembering the friendship that he'd missed since she'd run away. Erika heaved a tired sigh and dropped down onto the bed, but Remus was surprised to see a slight grin cross her face.

"I thought as much," she said, looking down at her hands. "You've always been so easy to read, Remus. You're so nervous, what else could it be?"

The sudden change in mood again left Remus reeling. He blinked and thought hard, trying to catch up, but Erika seemed to have little intention of continuing.

"Does that mean you won't answer?"

She shook her head, still studying her folded hands.

"I don't know."

They sat there in silence for some time. Remus didn't want to push her, but it was time for her to end this secrecy. He could see the struggle in her face, although her expression never changed. The battle that waged within her was obvious. He seemed to be on the losing end though as the minutes stretched on and Erika remained silent.

Sighing, he realized that he would get no answer today, but feeling that at least some headway had been made, he rose. Just as he placed a hand on the doorknob though, a single word stopped him in his tracks.

"Regulus."

The name, though immediately recognizable, made no sense in his mind, had no connection to any train of thought that might bring answers. He turned.

"Regulus," he said. It wasn't a question, but she nodded.

"Regulus Black." Again, he wasn't asking, but she nodded once more and remained silent. The stillness stretched on as Remus waited, but again it seemed that he would have to be the one to break it.

"I'm sorry, Erika, but you're going to have to help me," he said, impatience coloring every word. "What does Regulus have to do with anything?"

She shifted uncomfortably and looked as though she sincerely regretted stopping him from leaving. Remus was determined now, though. She would tell him the truth, one way or another.

She met his eyes once more, briefly, before staring back down at her hands.

"He's the reason I stayed away all these years," she said flatly. "And the only reason I'm still alive."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N 2nd part of the old Chapter 9. Again, if you've already read it, there's not much new information. But hopefully it's been improved, especially the pacing. I'd love to hear anyone's thoughts!

Erika's heart was pounding so hard that she glanced down to see if the movement was visible through her shirt. It wasn't. Of course it wasn't, she mused in a slightly depressing, if unrelated train of thought. That was her nature; outwardly composed, an emotionally crazed wreck inside.

With a slight jar, she came back to herself, realizing that it had been several minutes since she had spoken. Apparently Remus was done letting her off the hook.

"I don't know where to start," she said slowly, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the truth was well on it's way to being known. There was no way she could back out now. The thought was strangely comforting. Still, Remus remained silent.

"I guess it started when the Ministry started limiting how much time I could spend with Harry," she continued finally, meeting Remus's unflinching gaze with her own. It seemed less difficult to look at him now that she had gotten the first sentence out there. "You remember?"

He nodded. "Of course. You were distraught."

"I was hysterical," she corrected. "And desperate. But that wasn't the end of it..."

_How could they take Harry?_

_The words echoed repeatedly in her head, along with the scene that she'd just fled. Thursday afternoons had been Erika's only chance to visit Harry. The Ministry's previous assertion that too much time around his unstable godmother could be dangerous for the baby had enraged her, but there was little she could do about it. The officials that had been posted at Privet Drive prevented any attempts she made to break the rules. Several times she'd considered blowing them all to pieces. Getting sent to Azkaban seemed a more and more acceptable choice. It would likely be the only way she would ever see Sirius again and maintaining her sanity seemed less of a priority. She'd so far restrained herself by picturing these innocent guards going home to their own families._

_Her control had been tested to the limit today, however. Her wild accusations of the Ministry's treachery and her insistence that Sirius Black was innocent had finally been too much. The Ministry had cut off all of her access to baby Harry, thus ending the only thing left in her life that made her able to get out of bed in the morning. The men at Privet Drive who informed her of this decision would never know how close they came to losing their lives in that instant._

_Instead of showering them all in green light, she walked away. Without a goal in mind, or indeed, even a destination, she trudged through the streets. _

_She was disinterestedly surprised, then, when she found herself at the steps of her own apartment building. The little flat had a different smell as she pushed open the door. She'd long ago given up any attempts at cleanliness and a thick layer of rubbish, dust, and muck covered nearly every surface. Yet as she walked through, trying to decide what to take with her, she thought that the stench that now wafted through her nose was one of long ago abandonment. It had only been a few months that James and Lily were murdered, but it was as if she'd left the place years ago._

_With that thought she turned her back on all of her possessions and walked out the door for the last time._

_There wasn't a single lucid thought in her head as she walked through the forest. She wasn't even sure how she'd gotten there. Distantly, she thought she remembered apparating, but it hardly mattered. She had no destination, no purpose. It was a notion that already felt familiar, even comforting._

_She knew that she could never go back. A person can only take so much pain before she breaks; Erika felt like she'd reached that point long ago and was only now realizing it. The woods seemed an appropriate place for her now, though. Secluded and dangerous, perhaps if she were lucky she'd stumble across some violent creature that would be willing to put her out of her misery. Her only goal was motion. Anytime she stopped walking, she started to think, and that was the last thing she wanted to do, so she pressed on._

_It was the fifth day of roaming when she collapsed in a heap on the forest floor. Shaking and barely conscious, if she'd been able to form a coherent thought she would have fully expected to end her days in that spot. She would have been very surprised then, when a pair of strong hands picked her up and flung her none-too-gently over a shoulder. She was completely unaware of this fact however, nor did she notice when her environment changed from the damp coldness of the forest to a bright, homey warmth._

_It may have been days or only hours before she woke, feeling as confused and alarmed as she had ever felt in her life. The ceiling that stared back at her when her lids slid open was a rich mahogany wood and entirely foreign to her. So too was the lightly tinkling music playing somewhere to her left._

_Not wanting to alert the owner of this house to her consciousness, Erika made as little noise as possible as she slid off of the soft sofa cushions she'd been laying on and into a crouching position on the floor. The house was small she saw, but comfortable and judging by the sparse, but woodsy décor it was within the forest. There was no one in sight, but she could hear a sizzling sound from something cooking in the kitchen in front of her. A smell wafting from a large covered pot was so delicious that it nearly made her knees give out. She steeled herself against it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten, but she had no intention of staying for dinner. This stranger had rescued her, but it was time to leave._

_She was just making her way to the door when a man appeared out of an adjoining room and made his way to the pot on the stove. Erika huddled down behind the couch and watched as he worked on the contents. Something about him made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Though she hadn't gotten a clear look at his face yet, she was sure that she didn't recognize him. His walk, his mannerisms were totally strange. Yet at the same time there was something a little too familiar about him. Perhaps it was the flowing dark hair that fell almost to his shoulders, or the broad set of his shoulders, but Erika was forcibly and painfully reminded of Sirius._

_She was just wondering whether she had truly gone insane when the stranger turned around to face her fully and her mouth dropped open._

"_Oh, you're awake," he said, surprised. His voice had a pleasant tone, but at the moment it was strained with tension. "Look, try to stay calm…"_

"_Regulus?" Her mind was spinning. How was this possible? How could she have run away from the memory of a man only to run right into his brother? "What is this? Did you follow me? Are you holding me prisoner? They think I'm crazy; no one will come for me if you're hoping for a ransom."_

_She backed away from him slowly, trying to gauge the best escape route. Regulus was closer to the door than she, and would doubtlessly get there first should she try to run. She could try to overpower him, but in her weakened state, she had little chance. Perhaps if she tried to fight him though, he could save her some extra trouble and finish her off. The thought was tempting._

"_Just calm down," he said, his hands held palm up in front of him as if he was trying to quiet a frightened animal. "I'm not going to keep you here if you want to leave. I wasn't following you, but you passed out just a few yards away from my house. What are you doing out here anyway?" His placating tone changed to undeniable curiosity and, unless she was mistaken, concern._

_She let the silence hang for longer than necessary. She found it beyond impossible to believe that it was all a huge and inconvenient coincidence to run into a childhood friend in a forest when she was trying to escape any kind of humanity._

"_Running," she finally responded bluntly. She was in no mood for discussion. If he wasn't going to try to force her to stay then she wanted to be on her way as soon as possible. "But that's hardly your business. So if that's all, I'll be going now."_

"_Wait," he said, taking a step to place himself directly between Erika the door. He kept his hands up in front of him. "Just wait. Where are you going to go? Why don't you just stay for dinner? You look like death. I'm sure you'd feel better if you cleaned up and then you can go wherever you want."_

_Erika narrowed her eyes and took a step back. None of this made sense. Regulus was a death eater. She remembered the day they'd found out; it had nearly broken Sirius's heart. But now Regulus was here in front of her and he was certainly not acting like any death eater she'd ever met._

"_What is this?" she asked again. "Why are you acting like this?"_

_Regulus looked sheepishly around him and fidgeted a little with the spoon that he was still holding._

"_We used to be friends once, you know."_

"_That was a long time ago," she said, her temper flaring. "That was before you decided to let your parents control all of your decisions. And it was _long_ before you joined the ranks of Voldemort's lackies."_

"_I left them," he said quickly. "I was wrong, Erika, but I deserted months ago. Why do you think I'm hiding out here?"_

_Erika snorted humorlessly and paced to the other side of the room. She'd heard this one before._

"_Why would I believe that?" she asked skeptically. "That's the same story all your little friends are spewing to the Ministry right now."_

"_I saved you," he said uncertainly._

"_A favor I wouldn't have asked for," she said dismissively, but doubt was beginning to creep into her thoughts. She remembered well what a poor liar Regulus was. It was a trait that had gotten all three of them in trouble numerous times, but it was something she'd liked immensely about him all the same. Could he have learned to improve the skill from Voldemort's subordinates?_

"_I'm not lying," he said, as if he was reading her thoughts, and continued with obviously false cheerfulness. "Just have dinner with me. I'll prove it to you. I haven't had any company in months."_

_She didn't respond, but she also couldn't quite make herself move either. Perhaps she was looking for it, but the way he spoke, his posture, even his hands, were so similar to his brother's that she felt her heart breaking all over again._

"_Please?" he asked quietly._

_The soft vulnerability of his voice almost undid her. She could have collapsed on the couch with the weight of it, and she knew in that moment that she couldn't have refused him anything._

_Dinner was an awkward affair. Regulus obviously afraid to prod at old wounds with personal questions, kept quiet except when responding to Erika's interrogation. However, and although she was still skeptical of him, she was convinced by the end of the meal that he was being truthful._

"_Why now?" she asked around a mouthful of potatoes. "What made you change your mind?"_

_Regulus took a long time to answer. He chewed a bite thoughtfully as he stared up the ceiling, apparently deciding how to answer._

"_It was Mother, I guess," he said. At her shocked look, he laughed a little. "No, her views never changed. She got worse, actually, if you can believe it. She said Voldemort wasn't going far enough. She said purebloods should be the only ones left. Exterminate the rest. I really think she was losing her mind toward the end. I saw how fanatical she was becoming and it scared me. I despised her, but I started to realize that I was no better."_

_He looked up at Erika at this point, almost expecting some confirmation. She only stared back at him pensively._

"_So it was a sort of progression," he continued. "The more I was asked to do, the less loyalty I felt. And then Voldemort himself approached me with a task. By that time I was already planning my escape, but I knew if I made the attempt then, when the spotlight was directly on me, that I wouldn't get out of the city before they found me. So I consented without knowing exactly what was wanted of me. But the price was too high. I left. I took all the money I had in the world and I bought this little cottage where I thought no one would find me. Of course, I guess I was wrong about that."_

_He smiled softly and looked up pointedly at Erika. Surprising herself greatly, she found the smallest of grins tugging at the corners of her mouth. The action felt strange, as if she hadn't done it in a very long time._

_After dinner Regulus opened an aged bottle of firewhisky that left a familiar and pleasant burn in Erika's throat as it slid down. They sat together on the couch and talked about the details of their lives since school had ended. Erika, feeling relaxed with the firewhisky sitting comfortably in her stomach, told him all of the most painful details that she hadn't even spoken of to Remus. She told him of finding James' and Lily's murdered bodies in the still-smoking rubble, of the Ministry's refusal to hear her increasingly forceful, and sometimes even violent cries on Sirius's behalf. She told him of her sneaking suspicion that she was slowly losing her mind. She even told him of her wish to end her life. Regulus said little, but asked thoughtful questions periodically._

_Throughout the discussion, her eyes remained dry. She wondered vaguely if there was a limit placed on the number of tears a person had for a lifetime. If that was the case she had surely used up all of hers._

"_What will you do now?" Regulus asked suddenly. Again he seemed to be reading her mind as she'd just been wondering the same thing. She shook her head and looked up into his face._

"_I don't know. I didn't really have a plan, as you could probably tell. I just came to a random place where I knew no one would find me. I guess we were both wrong on that account." She smiled again, feeling more natural as she did so._

"_Can I stay here?" she asked, feeling suddenly doubtful. "Just for a little while, I mean."_

"_Stay as long as you want," he said. The sincerity in his voice overwhelmed her and she was suddenly reminded so strongly of Sirius that it was as if she was looking up into his face. She stretched up suddenly before she had time to reconsider the action and kissed him desperately._

_He was frozen with shock for a moment, but then Erika felt his lips move against hers and he slid his hands through her hair, causing gooseflesh down her back. He deepened the kiss._

"_I have to leave, Erika," Regulus said as he slowly ran his fingers up and down her arm. "There's something I have to do. It's got to be me, there's no other choice."_

_It had been several weeks since that first night in Regulus's cottage. Erika wasn't exactly happy. She knew that was an emotion that she would never experience again. But there was a different feeling now that had replaced the terrible emptiness consuming her. There wasn't exactly a name for it, but she supposed that it was something close to acceptance._

_At times though, the guilt overtook her. She wondered if Sirius had known what she was doing whether he would ever be able to forgive her, because despite Regulus's kindness and her growing affection for him, they both knew that he would never be able to take his brother's place. She justified her actions by telling herself that, had Sirius been there, his mind would be gone and he wouldn't even recognize her._

"_When will you be back?" she asked as she silently appreciated the way the failing light lit his face._

_He didn't answer immediately, but kept stroking her arm. "Soon," he said finally. "It shouldn't take long."_

"_Alright," she said. "I think I'll wash up a little."_

_He nodded and grinned at her when she turned to look at him before going in to the bathroom._

_He was lying and they were both fully aware of the fact. Consorting with the Death Eaters had not improved that particular skill. Whatever he was going to do, he fully expected never to return. The thought saddened her, but she was not surprised. Somehow she'd always known that this affair wouldn't last long. She also knew without Regulus's presence negating her emptiness, the despair would take over again, though this time she knew that she couldn't give in to it. She had no defense but she would not let it consume her completely. The time with Regulus had given her a wider appreciation of her responsibility. She owed too many people too much to allow herself to depart this life without a fight. She could no longer be so cowardly and selfish._

_She pressed her forehead against the tile of the shower and found that there was apparently no limit to how many tears a person could cry._

"That was it," Erika said. "I never saw him again. And I never knew what it was that he had to do. I found out that he was dead a few days later from the Prophet. And I stayed in his house until a few months ago when I found out that Sirius had escaped."

Remus had remained quiet during her story and she had no idea what he thought of her now. A glance at his face would have told her immediately, but she was again finding it hard to look at him. Nonetheless, she felt a lightness now that the secret was not wholly her own and for the first time she thought that perhaps it would be better to tell Sirius than to carry the burden on her own.

"I'm sorry, Erika."

She looked up at him quickly. Sympathy was not the reaction she'd expected from him, nor was it something she wanted.

"You've suffered so much. We all have…this damn war," he trailed off in a distant voice. "But you've blamed yourself for so long. You've got to let this go."

"I have much to pay for."

"Not this much," he said earnestly.

"Regardless, it's time to end this," she said as she stood up, looking determined. "I've kept this from Sirius because I thought it would be more painful for him to know, but I've only been torturing him further."

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked, placing a hand on her arm.

Erika shook her head. "I need to do this alone," she said, feeling the embarrassing sting of tears at the back of her eyes. She wiped impatiently at them. She had cried enough in her life, and despite her sadness, the lightness of opening up remained and buoyed her. "I owe him that much."

Remus nodded and took her hand. "I'll be here if you change your mind."

She smiled up at him, doubting that it could convey all of the gratitude that she felt at that moment. They walked out of the door just as Ginny came running up the stairs.

"Where have you been?" she cried, panting and holding a stitch in her side. "We thought you were both out! Didn't you hear us yelling?"

"What is it?" Erika asked, feeling a slight panic in her stomach. "What's happened?"

"It's Sirius," Ginny said, bending over to catch her breath. Erika's heart dropped to her feet. "He stormed out of here about half an hour ago. He just _left_. He got about four steps out the door and then he transfigured and just started running. Nobody's been able to find him or get a hold of him."

Remus's eyes widened and he glanced down at Erika whose face had gone oddly blank.

"He heard," she said in a matter-of-fact type of voice to no one in particular. "He knows everything."


	11. Chapter 11

_But that wasn't the end of it…_

The understatement of the century. Sirius was experiencing the full spectrum of emotions at such a rapid-fire pace it was making his head spin. Or maybe that was the exhaustion. He had no idea how long he'd been running, but the pain in his legs and lungs was almost satisfactorily distracting.

The sun had set long ago. The streets were quiet and not even the glow from a muggle television set lit the way in the dank, though not unfamiliar neighborhood where Sirius now found himself. All was quiet as his paws thudded heavily down the middle of the street. Inwardly he invited a car to come his way. At the moment he was fairly certain that the rage inside him was enough to make him invincible.

_Erika_.

Her name sprung to his mind unbidden and was enough to make him break stride and shake his head fiercely in a useless effort to rid himself of it.

Betrayer. Stranger. _Coward._

Words he never could have associated with her before now. She was, in every respect, different in his mind. She would never, could never be the girl he had fallen in love with, he was sure of that. He realized now that that girl had died years ago with Lily and James. Somehow this knowledge was comforting, and he savagely thought that he'd been right in the beginning; he should have killed the stranger the moment she'd set foot inside his house those many months ago.

But the moment the thought came to his mind it was gone again. He would never have been able to go through with it. Not if she'd been looking at him with those eyes. Whether he was right or wrong, he could never have done it.

Then again, maybe that's what she'd wanted when she'd come back. Maybe she had been looking for another way out and she thought he would take care of it for her, just as she'd hoped his brother would end her life in that cabin.

_Coward._

So this is what she'd been holding over his head all this time. The act was unbearable enough; the thought of any other man touching her was physically painful. Worse, oh so much worse was the fact that she hadn't had the courage, the decency to tell him herself. He'd had to resort to eavesdropping to find out that she'd bedded his brother.

_Regulus._

Of all the possibilities in the world, Sirius never would have guessed that his little brother was involved with Erika's dark past. The thought set him pacing again. Could Sirius have been wrong about him all this time? He could vividly recall the day that Dumbledore had informed them of Regulus's recent initiation into the ranks of the Death Eaters. Sirius had nearly torn his tiny flat apart in his grief. His saving grace had been the presence of his steadfast friends, always there to embrace him as a brother, even as his last tenuous connection to his blood family turned his back on him.

He had known Regulus leaned toward the dark, a fact made obvious by the company he kept. And they had long ago halted nearly all communication. So when the news came that Regulus was well and truly gone, Sirius assumed that he'd been naïve to hope that his brother might find any kind of redemption. If he'd received the Mark, it was too late.

Now everything was backward. If what Erika said was true, Regulus had not only seen the error of his ways, he had given his life to fight the Death Eaters. Sirius believed it readily because he wanted to believe it. He had wanted to believe it all those years ago when he'd left home. He'd wanted to believe that there was good in Regulus, and he felt an unfamiliar sense of pride that his brother had proved him right.

The happiness was short lived, though.

_Deserter_

The word was an accusation aimed inward, and it sent a hot bolt of guilt lancing through his stomach. He could have done a million things differently. Maybe if he had stayed a little longer, been able to endure his mother's torture, Regulus would have found the strength to leave with him when the time came.

Regulus had looked up to him when they were young, hero-worshipped him even. Sirius had known it, taken it for granted. But the influence of the family was too strong, and Regulus had traded in his brotherly bond for a life of the Black ideas of honor and duty.

Sirius pictured what his mother's face must have looked like when she discovered that he was gone. He had snuck out in the dead of night, James hovering on his broom outside the window. With a single duffel bag in his hand and his own broomstick slung over his shoulder, he had left his parents' house and never looked back, physically or mentally. But now, for the first time, he wondered at how different it must have been at Grimmauld Place after that night. Without Sirius there, the burden would have fallen on Regulus's shoulders to uphold the family name and make up for his elder brother's disgrace.

Sirius could imagine his mother sharp voice echoing through the halls of their house as she berated Regulus for one unimportant thing or another. She would not have let up on him simply because he was obedient, that was certain. Sirius was sure she would have taken the opportunity to mold Regulus into the perfectly brought-up pureblood heir she had always longed for. A pang of remorse hit him again again. Reg would have been miserable.

Sirius stopped for a while and let the night breeze blow around him. His exhaustion had long ago lost its effectiveness as a numbing agent. It was time to proceed to his destination, because destination he had.

Unlike Erika, he was not running simply to run. True, he could have apparrated directly there, but better to make her wait. Because she would be there, he was sure of it. If she knew him at all, and if she had any desire to find him, she would know where to go. So, transfiguring briefly back to human form, he apparrated away from the dark neighborhood.

Trees, grass, flowers; all were dull and gray, colors muted in the slowly waxing light of early morning. A damp and silent chill hung in the air, not even a lone sparrow calling out to greet the coming dawn. The unnatural quiet stretched over the rolling hills of the park, embracing without providing comfort. This was no sleepy morning; every insect, every blade of grass had been called to attention.

A shadowy figure leaned against a large, sturdy tree at the swell of the hill. Like her surroundings, she was silent and still, waiting. Tension was written in the stiff line of her spine, the carriage of her neck, the set of her jaw.

She didn't look up, nor did she relax as the resounding crack of someone apparrating ripped through the hushed field, but Sirius's eyes locked on her even before the world stopped spinning before his eyes. She hadn't forgotten after all. But was the thought comforting or distressing? It was impossible to discern the difference at the moment.

Several minutes passed as he stared at her form, trying to burn a hole right through her heart, while she in turn refused to acknowledge his presence. He realized with a touch of resentment mixed with a strange sense of nostalgia, that he would, once again, have to be the one to initiate contact.

He stepped forward slowly, slightly wary. True, she had sought him out, known he would be here, but that didn't mean she would stay. At any moment it might become too much, and, as he knew full well, her only response to such a situation was to run.

When he had nearly reached her, he stopped and shoved his hands in his pockets, adopting a carefully careless attitude, head thrown back a bit and one side of his mouth quirked slightly in a humorless smirk.

"You should be proud of yourself," he said, trying hard to sound amused instead of bitter. "No other girl ever shacked up with both the Black brothers." Her eyes were in shadow and she didn't raise them, but her hand twitched involuntarily, whether in outrage or guilt, he wasn't sure and didn't care. "At least not that I'm aware of."

She turned her head a fraction of an inch at his last sentence, and for a moment he saw a trace of the fire that had led him to her so many years ago, but it was gone so fast he wondered if he had imagined it.

"I suppose it's pointless to apologize," she said matter-of-factly with an almost imperceptible sigh, exhaustion etched into every word.

"I suppose it is."

He wasn't going to give her anything. The truth was that he didn't know why he'd come. He didn't want an apology. He knew she was sorry and he didn't care. He wanted information, but wasn't sure what kind. He'd heard more than he had wanted as he stood in the doorway listening to her confession, but somehow at the same time it wasn't enough.

"So how was it?" he asked, his tone almost convincingly light. He smiled inwardly as she finally looked up at him cautiously, the soft morning light throwing her features into gentle relief. But irritation overtook him again as she remained silent. She apparently was also not intending to give him an inch.

"I guess it's a little morbid to ask, he was my little brother after all. But I'd still hate to think he was a snooze in the sack. Did he find that ticklish spot behind your ear? Or did you two just go straight to screwing?"

The words were out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying, but he was sufficiently satisfied with the cruelty he'd managed to pour into them. If she was going to be stubborn he would make this as painful as possible.

In a split second she had pushed herself away from the tree. He was close enough to her now to reach out and grab her if he wanted, but he didn't move against her sudden advance.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," she spat in a ferocious voice that was so low it was almost a whisper. "None of it. I'd take it all back in a second, don't you know that? Don't you think I'm just as disgusted with myself-"

"Don't even say it," he said, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her closer to him, gripping hard enough to bruise. "You have no idea how I feel about you right now. You cannot begin to assume that you have a lower opinion of you than I do."

He let her go with a little shove that sent her reeling back a few steps, and turned away. He didn't know what to do now that the façade of cocky disinterest had been dropped, but he was very near his breaking point. There was a brief pause and Erika spoke again.

"What do you want then?" she asked, anger tingeing her words. "Why did you come here? What do you want me to do now?"

"_You don't get to ask anything of me!_" he bellowed, whipping back briefly to see the effect of his words. "_You aren't the one asking questions right now!_"

"Then ask me!" she yelled back. "My secret's out! Ask me anything, it doesn't matter! You want to know how it was, Sirius?" He stiffened, again facing away from her. He was sure that whatever came next would be unpleasant. Perhaps he deserved it for taunting her as he had. But her tone was quiet and sad when she spoke again.

"Second-best. Always second-best."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was not going as he'd expected. As he'd paced through his old stomping grounds, he'd imagined all the terrible things he would say to her. He'd known with perfect certainty that the rage that consumed him would not be tamped out by anything she might say. Yet in all his imaginings he had failed to take into account the fact that he was still very much in love with her.

He had been right about one thing; she wasn't the girl he'd fallen in love with when he was sixteen. But that didn't mean he could turn off his feelings. An overwhelming sense of sorrow took him over as he turned back to look her full in the face.

"Why?" He nearly choked on the sadness of the word. She was one of the only people in the world who had ever seen his weakness, but he hated that in this moment he couldn't hide it from her.

"Because I missed you," she said helpessly. "Because everything was so hopeless. I don't know why, Sirius. I can't give a reason that will make anything-"

He shook his head, a line of frustration between his eyes, and he interrupted her for the second time. "Not why did you do it. Why couldn't you just tell me? Why did you torture me for months? Why did you make me think it was something _I'd_ done wrong?"

"I-I never wanted to make you think you'd done something wrong, Sirius," she said after a pause.

"Well it bloody well didn't seem like it. Skulking around, refusing to look at me. You acted like I'd killed somebody."

It was a long time before Erika spoke again. She gazed at him for several moments, apparently lost in studying him.

"I'm sorry."

He huffed in exasperation. "Look, I could have gotten over the rest. I was gone, you were lonely, and there wasn't any chance I was going to come back anytime soon. I get it. But why couldn't you tell me that the brother I've spent so much time hating had redeemed himself? You of all people should know how important that is to me."

She turned away at his words, looking out at the rising sun. "I do know. I didn't tell you because I'm guilty; more guilty now than I was then."

Sirius' frown deepened. "What exactly does that mean?"

"I wronged him, Sirius, just as much as I wronged you. I betrayed you by being with him, and I betrayed him by pretending he was you. Every time I looked at him, I saw your face, and now-now every time I look at you I think of him."

A stunned silence followed this admission, and she sat down at his feet, still staring out over the rolling hills.

"You're still in love with him then?" As much as he wished otherwise, Sirius realized that the answer meant a great deal to him.

"I never loved him, Sirius," she answered quickly, looking up at him sharply. "Don't you see? I wish that I had. If I had, he wouldn't have left. In that short time we had together, I knew that he cared for me a great deal. The truth is that if I had asked him to stay, he would have and he'd still be alive. We both knew that he wasn't coming back, but I let him go. I may as well have killed him myself. And now when I see you, I'm reminded that I let a good man die, just because he wasn't his brother."

Sirius looked down at the top of her head for a moment, then took a breath and scrubbed at his eyes before sitting down beside her, resting his elbows on raised knees and clasping his hands lightly in front of him. This was so much more complicated and painful than he could have expected. But he was tired of talking about it for now. And in some strange way that he hadn't expected, he felt lighter.

"I reckon you take too much on yourself," he said without looking at her, though out of the corner of his eye he saw her head jerk in his direction. "Do you remember the last time we were here?" he asked, swiftly changing the subject.

She waited so long to answer that he wondered if it was possible that she didn't.

"Of course."

"I was so nervous." To Sirius' great surprise he found himself smiling with the bittersweet memory of the night. "I kept chickening out, and James would have to talk me back into it."

Erika laughed a little, and Sirius found his gaze drifting sideways down to the naked fingers she had clasped around her knees. "Did you sell it?" he asked, his tone unintentionally darker than his previous words. She snorted and he turned to face her fully, again finding that a great amount of importance hung on her answer.

She sat unmoving for a second, allowing him to gaze at her silently, before reaching a hand to the back of her neck and tugging gently at a fine chain that hung there.

"I never took it off," she said quietly, as a delicate silver ring with a single sparkling diamond emerged from the front of her shirt.

Sirius was struck silent as he watched her quietly fidgeted with the ring he had given her in this exact spot. He found that he had run out of things to say, and was quite content to simply stare out at the rising sun. It was many hours later before either of them moved, Sirius quietly helping Erika to her feet before walking together in companionable silence. Perhaps the quiet of the field had taken on its own sort of reverence that neither was willing to break, for they walked a long ways until the sound of their apparations were like distant and brief peals of thunder and then it was silent once more.

A/N So…it was more than a week. A lot more actually, but everything seems to take longer than I expect. Please forgive me! And review! Please do that as well. You have no idea how much it would make my day. We're almost to the end now, and if you've stuck with it for this long, I can't thank you enough! Anything you have to say, any opinions, thoughts, ANYTHING would be most welcome!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N Many thanks to ThatUncoolKid for the recent and lovely review. You gave me the kick in the ass I needed!

"_Dammit!"_

Erika was bleeding profusely and it was entirely Sirius Black's fault. She held her mangled fingers in front of her and high above her head, distantly remembering some motherly-type of advice about keeping bleeding limbs in the air, though at the moment she was fairly certain these words of wisdom were some prankster's attempt at adding insult to injury, because it seemed not to stem the flow one little bit and she felt like a bleeding idiot…so to speak.

Several healing spells passed through her head, but she landed on the much more satisfying, (and much less productive,) decision to take the injury to the culprit himself.

Marching down the hallway and feeling righteously indignant, her stomping footsteps announced her path long before her planned knock, and the object of her ire met her at his open bedroom door with a look of cautious curiosity.

"What kind of a careless dullard leaves a fanged geranium in his dining room?" she screeched, holding her bloody hand so close to Sirius's face that he went slightly cross-eyed before focusing back on her face.

"Did you just call me a dullard?" he asked in an amused, if slightly confused tone.

"Not exactly relevant at the moment, Black," she growled. "Do you _see_ my hand? I could have died, you know."

"Clearly. You're lucky to have escaped with all your limbs," he replied, his confusion fading to sarcastic boredom. "But really? Dullard? Did we travel back to the 1800's and I didn't realize it? If you were a man, I'd have to pull out a leather glove and slap you across the face for that."

"What's the point of keeping a plant like that in a house?" Erika cried, ignoring his smirk. "What if one of the children had gotten into it? You wouldn't be so casual about it then, would you?"

"I'd wager they'd have spotted it for what it was before you did. You've become careless in your old age, Erika. For shame," he said catching her injured hand softly in his and pushing her sleeve to her elbow, effectively silencing her. After producing his wand and waving a series of complicated motions and muttering some general healing spells under his breath he held it up for her inspection.

"There. Good as new."

She removed her hand quickly from his and rubbed the previously injured spot sulkily, though no pain lingered.

"Well why do you have it in the first place?' she replied grumpily.

Sirius shrugged casually and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe.

"I'm sure it's another leftover. One of my mother's _pets_. Likely Molly set it out to be taken to the trash and forgot about it. " He eyed her with a frown. "What were you doing with it anyway?"

She glanced away from him, for once looking slightly sheepish. "Dusting."

His eyebrows shot up and that irritating smirk threatened to overtake his entire face. "You?"

"Yes, me!" she said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest. "I dust!"

He said nothing, but his expression remained skeptically amused. Suddenly she had nothing to say. The scene was so familiar and strange at the same time. They could argue and tease each other one moment as if they were back at Hogwarts, and the next she could practically feel the air around them tingle unpleasantly with the tension of unsaid things.

She had no idea how he felt about her at the moment. Although they'd been isolated in the house alone for nearly 3 weeks since _the incident_ as she'd come to refer to it in her own head, they'd returned to their previous habit of interacting as little as possible. The difference now was that Sirius was no longer attempting to seek her out.

When they did come into contact, Erika couldn't help but analyze Sirius's behavior down to the minutest detail. The tone with which he greeted her, whether he met her eyes when she thanked him for making coffee, what chair he sat in in relation to her own, all were details that she filed away to be analyzed until she felt very close to screaming. When she was young she'd never been the type to pay much attention to boys' actions, but now she vaguely wondered if this was how normal teenage girls felt all the time. She hoped not. It was maddening.

For his part, Sirius seemed much more content with the situation. Immediately after _the incident,_ he was pleasant, though perhaps a little unnaturally formal when they spoke. In the past few days however, his entire demeanor seemed to be very gradually changing and she was doing her best to take her cues from him. He seemed lighter, he smiled more.

Once again making up for all of the angst she had avoided in school, she couldn't help but think that perhaps finding out the truth had freed him of any remaining feelings he had for her. True, he teased her, joked with her, and sometimes she could even flatter herself that he was flirting, she couldn't help but feel wildly insecure.

"Alright," she said turning slowly. "I was just, ah, I think we should, you know, get rid of it." Her comment trailed off lamely and she was about to hurry back to her room in relative embarrassment when Sirius's voice stopped her.

"How about a walk?" His tone was cavalier, arrogant even, once again reminding her strongly of their time at school. And just like that, the tension once again dissipated.

"It's dark," she said with an air that she doubted his sanity, although one side of her mouth twisted up of its own accord.

"You can't walk at nighttime?" he asked, pushing off of the doorway and taking a step toward her.

"You're wanted."

"Always love, always," he said cheekily, ducking his head slightly to catch her eye more fully. She rolled her eyes.

"You're a wanted _criminal_. People are looking for you."

He shrugged again. "We'll steer clear of those people. Keep to muggle areas."

"The muggles think you're a murderer."

"So we'll stay away from them as well."

"And where would we find a place like that?" she asked skeptically, though without much conviction. Sirius's smile said that he knew he'd already won.

"We'll figure it out."

"What about Dumbledore?"

At this his smirk widened to the dazzling smile that had melted so many witches in years long past. In that instant, a seventeen year old Sirius Black stood grinning before her.

"To hell with Dumbledore."

A/N I couldn't possibly ask for forgiveness at this point. The truth is that I had all but given up on being able to finish this story. I couldn't seem to figure out a suitable ending, or even really where to go next from Chapter 11. And while I certainly haven't figured it out yet, I haven't ever been able to forget this story completely, so I've resolved to finish it one way or the other.

This is a shorter chapter for me, but I'm hoping that will help me to work some things out along the way. Also, I realize this chapter doesn't exactly advance the story line much. At this point I just wanted to get back into the flow of writing, since I'm very much out of practice.

Many thanks to anyone who's still reading, or has newly stumbled upon this story. Reviews would be wonderful whether you've enjoyed it or not.


	13. Chapter 13

The sky was indeed dark as they stepped out onto the stoop. It also seemed to be tinged a strange greenish gray, a result of the clouds that had taken up residence overhead since sunset.

"I hope this is to be a short stroll," Ericka said warily, her eyes cast upwards. A warm spell had recently melted the winter snow and left muddy puddles in its wake. The unseasonable warmth lingered, and she wouldn't have been surprised if a rainstorm made an appearance overnight to further inconvenience Londoners.

Sirius quirked an eyebrow and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a smirk playing around one side of his mouth.

"When did you become such a nancy?" he asked. "Honestly, Delian, where's your sense of adventure?"

"Adventure, is it?" she countered quickly, turning to look him straight in the eye. "It just sounds like a good way to stir up a bloody mess and send the both of us to St. Mungo's with pneumonia to me."

"With what now?" he asked, cocking his head to the side curiously.

Her years of hiding from the magical world had left her with an abundance of Muggle knowledge that he of course didn't share. Biting the inside of her cheek, she hoped he wouldn't realize her mistake which would likely result in a resurfacing of the awkwardness that was common enough between them. She waved her hand dismissively.

"Nevermind. Lead on then, where is your grand adventure taking us tonight?"

A Cheshire grin dimpled his face, and she was relieved to see that the pleasant ease remained between them.

"Thought you'd never ask, love," he said, taking her hand before turning on his heel and dragging her away from the square. The forceful tug behind her naval was familiar but unexpected, and even as they came to a spinning halt she couldn't but help be completely consumed by the feel of her hand in his. Preoccupied as she was, she stumbled upon hitting the hard earth, but his grip on her was firm and he righted her before she hit the ground. She ignored the grin that said he knew exactly what she was thinking, and instead turned to look up at the enormous wrought iron gate before them.

"Hogwarts?" she asked, confused.

"Yes," he confirmed as if it was the most natural place in the world for them to be. "Hogwarts."

"But…why?"

"We, my dear, are going back to basics," he said, giving a wildly exaggerated mock bow while offering an arm to her. "And for us, that means Hogwarts."

She giggled, and even to her own ears she sounded like a smitten schoolgirl. A dozen girls in her class alone, (that she knew of,) had fallen quite literally to his slick charms. At the very least, she could claim that it had taken more than that to sway her. It hadn't mattered in the end. She might as well have been his from the beginning.

Taking his arm and doing her best to pull herself together, she tried to make sense of his intent. Of course, they'd had their best times at school. Hogwarts meant before the war hit their doorstep. Before James and Lily hadn't been dead. Before Sirius had been carted away. Before Regulus…

"Basics," she parroted lamely. He only nodded patiently. "But what about the charms? We can't even get in."

"Oh ye of little faith," he said, endlessly smug. "I called ahead. We have reservations."

As he spoke he walked forward, Ericka in tow, and pushed lightly on the gate. It opened easily and silently, and Sirius flung himself into another ridiculous bow, gesturing for her to go through ahead of him.

Stifling another giggle that threatened to bubble up, she crossed the threshold and waited for him to follow her.

"Do we need to…?" she gestured up at the gate after he did nothing more than pull it shut behind them.

"No," he shook his head, unconcerned. "It will only let you and I through today."

She frowned at him out of the corner of her eye as they began to amble slowly forward in no particular direction. The grounds were dark, and there was no moon to light the way, but they were both familiar enough with the area that they avoided trees and other obstacles easily.

"You set all of this up with Dumbledore?" she asked. He nodded, reaching up to break off a dead branch.

"And the students are all at dinner, though I don't think it likely that any of them would venture out at this time anyway," he said. Then, seeing her small disbelieving smile, "Is it so hard to believe that I could plan ahead?"

"I suppose it had to happen sooner or later," she said wryly, kicking through a puddle ahead of him playfully. "Not exactly a romantic setting at the moment though, is it?"

He stopped walking and watched her walk a few steps further.

"Who said it was supposed to be romantic?" he asked pointedly.

She stopped walking abruptly, appalled at what she'd insinuated. Of course he hadn't meant it to be romantic, she cursed herself. Just a nice walk through the school ground they both loved so much. Turning back but not quite meeting his eyes, she tried to think of a way to backpeddle.

"Nothing…not…I didn't mean that's what you'd intended," she stuttered. "I just meant…in general, you know. It's not the best weather. For other people. You know, if that's what they had in mind."

His smile grew with her discomfort, though she didn't realize since she couldn't bear to meet his gaze. Finally after another moment of scrutiny, he relented.

"I suppose you're right," he said, offering his arm to her again. She breathed a relieved sigh as quietly as she could.

"Where are we going then?" she asked, keen to change the topic.

He just smiled knowingly, and Ericka tried in vain to keep from rolling her eyes. They continued to walk slowly and the silence stretched between them, though somehow it wasn't as uncomfortable as it might have been. Sirius seemed to have their destination in mind, though he was in no hurry to reach it and he didn't seem at all inclined to let her in on the secret.

Perhaps she should have realized sooner, but it wasn't until they topped the hill and she gazed out at the lake stretched out before her that it all came together. The frozen surface glittered back at her as if throwing her a cheeky wink. Two pairs of skates lay by the water's edge.

"You really did have a plan," she breathed.

"Mmmm," he hummed in response, and even then she could hear the self-satisfaction in his voice.

"Is it safe?" she asked, thinking of the recent bout of warm weather. It was true, neither of them would be in danger one way or the other. Should any mishap befall them they could easily escape the lake and dry off with a couple of simple spells. However, she didn't particularly fancy a dip in what was still sure to be fiercely cold water. But there was a glint in his eye as he turned to her.

"Are you scared?"

Her heart skipped a beat as she gazed back at him and she couldn't help her mind wandering a bit.

The man that she had fallen in love with all those years ago had been making an appearance more and more often, replacing the obsessive, cold and often unreasonable man that seemed to have taken over in her absence. Sirius's charm and confidence had steadily been coming back, and both were in full force tonight. She couldn't have refused him anything if she'd tried.

Lifting her chin defiantly, she didn't answer but merely strolled over to the skates and sat down to put them on. Her breath caught slightly when he sat down much too close to her, their shoulders sliding against each other. She hoped he didn't notice.

She remembered very clearly the day that Sirius was apparently recreating with this little outing. Unlike now, that day had been the picture of romance. A blanket of pristine white had covered the grounds and the school, serene and picture perfect, hovered over them in the distance like a protective parent. She couldn't now remember the circumstances that had brought them outside without the rest of their friends. It had been unusual, if not extraordinary, for the two of them to spend time together alone, but after that day it became a common enough occurrence. It had been a weekend perhaps, with light schoolwork, or the beginning of a holiday, but surely they hadn't been the only ones outside? A day like that would have tempted all of the students out for a snowball fight, but for the life of her she couldn't remember seeing or hearing another soul apart from Sirius the whole day.

"Ready?" he asked, snapping her out her out of her daydream. He was smiling at her, all sarcasm and smugness gone, replaced with a gentle wistfulness that she felt sure was reflected in her own visage. She didn't enjoy this persistent feeling that he could read her mind.

Nodding, she stood and hesitantly pushed out onto the ice. She certainly wasn't an experienced skater. In fact, that day with Sirius had been the first and last for her until this point. They'd both been garbage at first, but Sirius, more of an athlete than she, had picked it up quickly. He'd spent the next half hour skating circles around her and teasing her mercilessly as she struggled just to remain upright. Eventually he'd taken pity on her and attempted to help her learn to control the disobedient skates.

Now they wobbled slightly underneath her, but she was pleased to find that she could at least keep her balance. She would likely never find the grace that Sirius was so proud of, but she thought it a good start. She felt a pang of resentment as she noticed that he looked like an old pro, skating as easily backwards as he did forwards, smug grin back firmly in place. Bitterly, she wondered if it was possible that Azkaban had a skating rink that she wasn't aware of.

"Having fun?" she called sourly as he swept gracefully by her, knocking her shoulder lightly with his as he passed, the small contact almost enough to send her careening over.

He nodded contentedly. "Absolutely."

She huffed in annoyance as he let her struggle. She couldn't help but picture a newborn deer struggling to gain control of its limbs, though she doubted that she displayed any of the endearing sweetness of that picture.

A sudden, if light touch on her elbow startled her and she turned to see Sirius grinning at her.

"Come on then," he said, sliding his hand down to take hers.

Though he tried valiantly for a time to help her gain a little self-confidence, her hand in his was distracting enough to her that she was even worse than before. She was soon sitting on her backside next to his feet. He laughed, though not unkindly, and crouched down to look her in the eye.

"You ready to go?" he asked, smile still gracing his features.

Despite her awful performance and the shame that she knew she should feel at the moment, she couldn't deny that she'd had a good time. It was strange to think that after all that had happened and in the midst of a war, they could still find these moments of levity in each other. It was freeing somehow. However, this was also a moment that quite forcibly reminded her that she was no spring chicken, and the screaming of her knees and ankles let her know that she would pay dearly for the excursion later. The thought of a hot bath and steaming cup of tea was almost enough to make her groan.

"I'm exhausted," she confessed with a grin.

"Up we go," he said taking both of her hands and hauling her back to her feet.

Her mind continued to drift back to their first outing all those years ago. Despite the intimate environment and the excessive amount of hand-holding as Sirius tried in vain to keep her on her feet, that romantic day had not resulted in their first kiss. They'd eventually gone back to the common room and their respective dorms, sharing a pleasant if slightly awkward farewell on parting. What it did result in was Ericka's first stirring of realization that perhaps she wanted him to kiss her. The feeling intensified slowly, but for once she wasn't bold enough to make the first move. He got the hint eventually though and things progressed from there. But that day they spent on the ice had been all innocence and awkward apologies following unintentional half-embraces as Ericka slipped again and again. She smiled fondly at the memory.

She could feel his sideways glance as they changed back into their shoes and she turned to catch him staring openly at her.

"What?" she asked.

"What?" he responded with a shrug, the picture of innocence. Her brow furrowed, but she didn't comment further.

They walked back in semi-comfortable silence, though the buzzing in Ericka's head was growing steadily. She was uneasy and felt like there was something she should say or some question she should ask, but couldn't figure out where to start. She settled for walking arm in arm with him and crossing the threshold once he'd Apparated them back home.

Shrugging off his outer gear, he was the picture of ease, and maybe even a little self-satisfaction as well, as if the day had gone exactly to plan. The thought only set her more uncomfortable.

"We should order in for dinner," he said, moving into the kitchen. She could hear the shuffle of pots and pans and running water as he set about making tea. "You know that wonderful Chinese place down the street? It closed, but another one took its place. Not as good, but tolerable. You'd have to go pick it up of course, seeing as I'm still so _wanted_."

She hummed a response, not really hearing him. Shrugging out of her jacket took unnecessarily long, but she eventually made her way to the kitchen. She stood on the threshold, watching his back as he fussed over the tea.

"Sirius?"

"Hmmm," he muttered distractedly.

"What was all that?" she asked, trying to keep her tone even. It was enough to still him, though he didn't turn to her yet. The set of his shoulders was stiff and she almost wished she'd held her tongue, but now that she'd started she had to get it out.

"It was wonderful," she ploughed on doggedly. "Truly, but why did you plan all of that? Why take me there?"

He did turn to her now with a muttered, "Christ," yet when he looked at her she wasn't sure if she was pleased or irritated to see that he looked slightly amused. She heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, "Can't just let it be…"

He gazed at her a few seconds before answering.

"What do you want it to be?" he asked simply.

She blanched. It was down to her again, was it? Somewhere the feeling rang through as unfair that she was the one to make the decision yet again., but she couldn't bring herself to feel irritated. More than anything she felt exceedingly insecure. She was sure that whatever she said would be wrong and whatever she picked wouldn't be what he wanted. She decided to stay as neutral as possible.

"I guess I hope it means that you don't hate me," she started. " I mean, it doesn't seem that you do, but if you do it's perfectly understandable, I'd just like to…"

Her babbling cut off abruptly when he crossed the room and came to stand in front of her, very much in her personal space. She was so shocked when he brushed his hand tenderly over her cheekbone that she felt an embarrassing threat of tears. She had to fight the urge to lean into his touch.

"I guess I'll just be as plain as possible," he said. "No more dancing around each other. We did enough of that in school. It was irritating then and if possible it's even worse now since we've been through it all before."

She couldn't respond, nor could she tear her eyes from his face. The years in Azkaban had certainly taken their toll, there was no denying it. Despite the fact that he now got plenty of sleep and there was no shortage of food with Molly anywhere near, the bruise-like circles under his eyes and the hollows under his cheekbones would probably never be completely erased. But as she gazed at him, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was the most beautiful man in the world. Her stomach seemed to turn over on itself as he continued to stroke her cheek.

"I love you," he said and the world stopped.

Silence rang in her ears as she was no longer aware of anything else in the world except the man in front of her. That couldn't possibly be what he'd said, surely she'd heard him wrong. How was it possible that a man like Sirius, the best man she'd ever known, the sweetest, strongest, most loyal, man to ever live, how could a man like that ever find it within himself to love her after all of it?

"I _will_ always love you."

Her breath caught in her throat as she struggled not to choke on a sob.

"So I'm sorry, darling, but I'm afraid it's down to you as always," he said, echoing her thoughts of earlier.

But she couldn't speak. At this, perhaps the most important moment of her life, she was struck dumb. Too intense was the effort of avoiding breaking down and sobbing on the floor at his feet, that she could only stare at him mutely.

Sirius Black, however, was never one for inaction and his nerve didn't fail him now. Moving his other hand to graze softly over the back of her neck, he leaned in closer, keeping his eyes on her face, searching, and she realized that he was giving her a chance to stop him. He was truly asking her to decide.

His lips ghosted over hers and as they did she came back to herself, gained control and pulled back. They stood there, eye-to-eye, lips centimeters apart, for what felt like an eternity.

"I love you, Sirius," she said and could feel with every cell in her body that it was true. That it would always be true. Standing there with him, it was the only thing in the world that mattered. They were all that mattered, the two of them, together. The realization crashed down and overwhelmed her, yet even as one traitorous tear found its way down her cheek, she smiled. She should have known.

His grin echoed hers. He looked happy, but he didn't look surprised. Maybe he'd known all along. Hell, maybe he was the smart one in their relationship after all.

Jesus, _their relationship_. The word felt as foreign now as it had so long ago when they'd first begun this whole thing. Where exactly did they go from here?

But before she could let herself be troubled, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips so gently to hers that he might have been afraid she'd break. All thought left her mind at that point and the only thing that registered was Sirius and that she loved him.

So much had happened, how could they ever go back? Losing friends, losing each other, losing themselves, was it possible that any vestiges of those kids they'd been remained? Was it possible to recover your innocence? If it was, this was definitely way to do it, she thought. Sirius's hands, for perhaps the first time ever, didn't stray anywhere inappropriate, instead ghosting over her face, down her back, through her hair and it felt so good to kiss him, feel him, that she actually felt faint. Grasping his shoulder with one hand and running her fingers through his shaggy hair with the other, she was reminded of something Sirius had said several weeks ago.

_I feel like I'm seventeen again._

Well that sounded just fine, thank you very much. A little scary perhaps, but it was supposed to be, right? If it wasn't, would it really be worth it?

She smiled against his mouth, grin widening when she felt him echo it. She pulled back, looking at him and feeling something she hadn't in a very long time.

"I love you, Sirius," she said again, relishing in the feel of the words on her lips.

No more running, no more uncertainty. This was everything that mattered. This was life itself, and being in his arms, she felt like she was finally home.


End file.
